Secret Sexer
by wrestlefan4
Summary: He was bored so he created a sex game. Includes many Superstars, pairings, and kinks. Smut and Slash. Ye be warned.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Happy Birthday DK. I dedicate this to you lol! :) Oh yeah, um, I threw rosters out the window. I'm just using guys I wanna use so pretend I'm Vince McMahon and I stuck all these guys on the same roster for my own dirty purposes. LOL! **

**Secret Sexer**

"I'm so brilliant, I amaze myself." Adam grinned as he sauntered into the locker room, bobbling his head cockily and snapping his gum. This idea of his was sure to be total win. He'd thought it up during an ongoing bout of extreme boredom. Adam had always been known for his crazy antics, he was always up for doing something insane, and anyone knew if they were hanging out with him they were sure to have a great time, and probably get in trouble with Vince, if not the law, when doing so. Lately however, he's been having a "fun" drought. He'd tagged along with groups going bar hopping, late night skinny dipping in the hotel pool, a movie here or there, but nothing very note worthy or out of the ordinary. What he had in mind was going to change things. He pushed the door to the locker room open and silently hoped that he'd get a good group of guys to go along with his venture.

"Oh no." Christian groaned when he looked up to see Edge walking towards everyone. "That look on your face is one I know well." The blond smirked, shaking his head. "It means trouble."

"That is so not me." Adam put on a mock innocent face that drew snorts and laughter from the others.

"So what is it this time Copeland?" Jericho asked, taking a break from singing into his comb. He leaned against a locker and boredly ran the comb through his bleached hair.

"Eh, you guys ever heard of 'Secret Santa'?" Adam asked, propping his foot up on the bench and looking around the room. Most of them knew what it was, but for the few who didn't he explained. "Alright you bunch of chump-stains…" He popped his gum. "Secret Santa is a Christmas game where a group of people all put their names into a hat, and each person draws a name, then you secretly leave a gift for the person you drew. Get it?"

"You want us to do Secret Santa in the middle of July?" Glen squinted at the young blonde who only rolled his eyes.

"Oh no, this is a lot better…but it's the same concept." He paused, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, bobbling his head like one of those dash board dolls. "It's called 'Secret Sexer'."

"Leave it to Copeland." Mark chuckled wringing his wet auburn hair.

There were a few laughs and snorts for others, a few guys immediately left the room, obviously wanting no part in whatever this thing was.

"Here's how it'll go. Anyone who wants in will put their name and a sexual desire or fetish down on these Post-It notes." He waved the neon pieces of paper as evidence. "Get creative and kinky folks, any fuckin' thing you want, write it next to your name. I'll put 'em in a hat…" Adam turned to Cena who was standing near him and snatched his hat from his head. "You all draw from the hat and make that persons wish come true. Got it? So, anyone up for it?"

A flurry of conversation buzzed through the room. Some more guys left, but there were a good number who stayed, and eagerly dug through their bags for pens as Adam passed around the Post-It notes along with Cena's hat. Soon the hat had made it back to Adam. It was overflowing with folded scraps of paper. Adam put his name in last and gave the papers a little toss with his fingers like he was making some sort of obscene salad. As he did he looked around at the guys who had decided to play the game: Jericho, Matt, Jeff, Cody, Ted, Randy, Shawn, Batista, Cena, Christian, Mark, Glen, Miz, Morrison, CM Punk, Layfield, Rey, Bourne, Kozlov, Dolph, Swagger, and of course himself. This was going to be fucking great! _As long as I don't end up with JBL. _Adam thought as he gave the papers a final mix-up.

"Alright pervs, line up."

All the names had been drawn and most of the guys had cleared out of the locker room, save Chris and Morrison who always took the longest.

"Who'd you get?" Chris asked dumping more gel onto his hair.

"Don't you know the meaning of the word 'secret'?" Morrison watched Chris as he spiked his hair with disgusting amounts of product. Chris just shrugged a shoulder and grabbed his comb again, singing 'You Sexy Thang!' into it. Morrison tuned him out and let his hand stray to his pocket where his slip of paper was. _Jeff Hardy…what a strange guy. _John peered into the mirror and ran his tongue over his teeth. He shouldn't have been surprised that the Enigma liked fangs. _I'm going to be the sexiest vampire that little slut has ever seen. _With a creepy laugh, John shouldered his bag and left Chris doing the moonwalk in the restroom mirror.

* * *

**Okay, I made this short because it's just an intro. I'm eager to see what you all think of the concept. I know I have other fics going but I think I need some time away from them. I swear on Jericho's sacred man-package that I ****WILL**** get back to my other fics and finish them. Most of them are heavy topics and I've been feeling overwhelmed with them. **

**The exception is the co-authored fic with Dark Kaneanite, which I love to death…*shameless plug* Its Jericho/Matt or Matticho called "A Melding of Bodies and a Mending of The Heart." Check it out sometime we'd love to see what you think. Anyway as I was saying before I interrupted myself, I need a break from my other fics. Smut to the rescue! This is going to be just smut with a bunch of people. I literally dumped names in a hat and drew them out so the pairings may be anything and everything, some might even be pretty off the wall lol. Don't worry I'll make their kinks interesting as I can and I'll try my best to make even the oddest pairings hot. So, be ready O-Lovely readers. :)**

**I'm going to have the next chapter up today and it will be hot!!**

**Stick around if you can and maybe drop me a line! Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**John Morrison/Jeff Hardy**

Morrison had nothing else to do, and he was to be honest extremely intrigued by Jeff's strange and detailed request. The rainbow haired Hardy might as well have written an instruction manual with all the details he scribbled and stuffed onto his Post-It note. John read over them again while he stood in an isle at Deans Party Mania. If John Morrison was anything, he was a devout perfectionist, and this venture was going to be just as perfected as his chiseled abs. He carefully selected his things and made it back to his hotel room and spent hours getting ready going over his plan again and again.

Jeff wanted his Secret Sexer to be a vampire. If that wasn't enough for oddball, it got even more bizarre. But then again, it was Jeff, so bizarre should be expected. He also wanted Matt to be involved, _double _penetration, and he wanted the whole thing taped. John smirked and shook his head as he put his last finishing touches on his look-inserting some very realistic looking fangs over his teeth.

Before going to Jeff's room, John stopped in to pay Matt a visit and see if the dark haired man had everything ready. Matt grinned darkly, showing his own set of fangs to the Shaman of Sexy. John hurried down the hall to Jeff's room and knocked on the door, striking the sexiest pose he could for when Jeff opened the door.

Jeff had just got out of the shower and put on a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt when someone rapped on the door. Jeff answered the door toweling his hair and he was about to offer a greeting but when the door swung open all the way and he saw gorgeous John Morrison standing there…he couldn't hold on to any words. He just stuttered a couple syllables like a fool.

John was leaning against the door frame watching Jeff through eyes that seemed caramelized with lust and they looked eerily gorgeous thickly rimmed with black liner. His perfect hair was swept back in a ponytail with a few stray pieces falling tantalizing around his face. Jeff's eyes hungrily traveled over his body loving the long, gothic trench. John moved one of the lapels out of the way with a sweep of his hand revealing a black mesh shirt hugging tight to his god-like torso. Jeff almost moaned right then and there just thinking about touching such perfection.

_Oh fuck…_Jeff thought, mentally groaning, his knees feeling like jell-o. He must be my Secret Sexer. As if John had got some mental cue, he parted his lips and slowly trailed the tip of his tongue over those sharp, glistening fangs.

"Well?" John asked in a low, seductive voice. "You going to let me in Hardy?"

Jeff bobbed his head up and down stupidly and John swept into the room kicking the door forcefully shut behind him. Jeff watched in stunned silence, unable to do anything but squeak when John grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him forward. John held Jeff's chin and gently opened Hardy's mouth and ever so slightly flicked his tongue against his soft lips and let the points of the fangs brush barely against them, causing Jeff to shudder and gasp.

Jeff already felt his mind and other body parts surging into overdrive. He crashed his lips to John's forcing his tongue in sloppily and hungrily. John broke away quickly and flung Jeff onto the bed. He clinged to the bed as though it was a life raft and his chest moved quickly up and down with his agitated breathing.

"Oh Jeff, you're such a little slut." John pouted and wagged his finger in disapproval. "You get excited to quickly, this isn't going to be a five minute ordeal." John laughed, the sound of it was both dark and seductive and it had Jeff shuddering again, his fingers clinging tight to the bedspread.

_This is so much fun._ John sauntered over to the bed and surveyed Jeff as he practically begged him with his eyes to do something, but he didn't say anything. John imagined he was too overwhelmed at the moment. John knew when it was his time for his fantasy to be fulfilled, he'd probably have an overload as well. Pushing that out of his mind John tossed his hair back from his face and scooted Jeff up on the bed. He straddled Jeff at the waist he could tell Jeff was trying hard not to wiggle his hips upward towards John's crotch. The Enigma was chewing his lip ring so hard that he was starting to draw blood. _How fitting. _John thought as he smirked, showing Jeff the fangs again and running his fingers lightly up Jeff's shirt along his sides. The ticklish action sent Jeffs hips upwards in a slow arch and with the motion Jeff bit into his lip so hard tears sprang to his eyes. The crimson liquid smeared over his teeth.

"You're making this too easy for me." John growled and took Jeff's bottom lip into his mouth and sucked at it hard enough to bruise it. He slid his tongue slowly into Jeff's mouth drawing it over Jeffs teeth and tasting the metallic tang of his blood. Jeff's breathing filled Johns ears as it came harder. Jeffs small fingers found their way to John's shoulders and the chipped nails tried to bite into the muscle but the coat was in the way making it useless. John plunged his tongue deeper filling Jeff's mouth with it and its dominant thrusts and swirls. Jeff writhed beneath him but his mewls and moans were all muffled as John kept up the kiss harder and deeper until he was sure Jeff would choke from either too much tongue or lack of oxygen, maybe both.

Jeff raked his fingers down John's back and he could vaguely hear them sliding with soft purring sounds down the fabric. He felt blissfully out of control of the situation. He really couldn't kiss John back very properly, and he really couldn't breathe, but none of that seemed to matter at all. He felt like he was burning up in his clothes, his erection already tenting his sweat pants. His chest was on fire and tight with the need for oxygen, his head was swimming, a dull ache forming there, as his body screamed for air. Jeff didn't care, the light-headed, dizzying, sensations that floated over his body coupled with the throb between his legs was more than enough pleasure to keep him from tearing his lips apart from John's. Just as he thought he was going to come then and there and float off into blissful unconsciousness, John pulled his lips away.

Jeff's head lulled side to side against his pillow, his lungs gulping in air. He was trembling all over, sweat coated his body, and all from just a kiss. John sat back and panted for his own breath. Jeff just watched as John's beautiful face swam double before his eyes, those long, hard, fangs smeared with a little of Jeff's own blood.

John dragged his fingers through his hair, the elastic keeping it back had slid somewhat out of place, causing more of it to fall over his face and stick around the sides of it. He settled himself back on Jeff's thighs and looked down between his own legs seeing the tent of Jeff's sweats there.

"Oh…Jeff." John gasped, his voice raspy, his eyes glowing. "You really are excited." He ran his finger in a little circle where the head of Jeff's cock prodded at the cotton material. John immediately felt it twitch and Jeff whimpered and grunted like an animal as John continued to tease. He could feel the tension in Jeff's thighs, he wanted to thrust so badly but John's weight on his thighs prevented it. Instead Jeff bunched the bedsheets so tight in his fists that his hands started to cramp and his knuckles turned white. John slid further down Jeff's legs until he was seated on Jeff's knees and when he was he slid Jeff's shirt up and traced his fingertip along fingertip along the waistline of his sweats.

"Oh, fuck John!" Jeff whimpered.

"Not yet, certainly." John answered with a darkly amused chuckle. He slid Jeff's sweats down and his throbbing cock sprang into view, he'd been wearing nothing underneath. John leaned over the needy thing and brought his lips just barely away from the base on the underside. He was close enough that Jeff could feel each maddening, wet, breath against his cock and he moaned John's name again and again whining. "I wonder…" John sighed. Jeff started to buck up, but John grabbed his thighs and held them firmly. "I wonder, mhmm…if your seed tastes just as good as your blood."

"John, John fuck! Fuck! Oh!" Jeff's cries were ragged and pitiful, he slammed his head back into his pillows, making the headboard rattle against the wall.

"Don't you remember what you asked for?"

Jeff could feel John crawling up his body so fucking slow and maddening. John's lips were against his ear, his words humming warm and wet, his fangs nipping.

"This is enough…never mind what else I wanted, oh fuck!" Jeff arched hard into John. He managed to squirm his legs free and he wrapped them around John's waist. His arms found themselves hung around John's neck and he rocked his hips quickly against John's cock.

"No, you're being unreasonable. You're not in charge of this." John pinched Jeff's chin in his hand and held his crazed emerald eyes with an almost hypnotic stare. "I am in charge of this and now is not the time."

John got away from the strong grip of Jeff's thighs and arms and walked over to the door. Jeff just laid on the bed not knowing if he could even remember how to walk.

"Are you coming?" John growled. Jeff nodded wordlessly, a bead of sweat leaked down the side of his face and disappeared into one of the stripes of his beard. John licked his lips. The guy looked good and hot, and John could take him now, but there was still a lot to do, and John Morrison was a master of self control and a perfectionist. There was no way he was going to end this thing earlier and short of what Jeff had originally asked for. John rolled his eyes and acted to be put out at Jeff's apparent paralytic state. He came over to the bed and bent down and wrapped his arms around Jeff's waist and the Enigma responded by draping his over John's neck. John straightened up and Jeff once again wrapped his legs around John's waist in a death grip. John shifted his grasp so his hands were firmly under Jeff's ass and that way he carried him to the door and down the hall.

It only took them moments to get to Matt's room. Jeff was suckling hastily at John's neck, his hard-on prodding John in the belly. Morrison shifted Jeff's weight and he freed one of his hands so he could knock. Matt was there in a moment, but the way John was carrying Jeff, and the way Jeff was burrowed into the crook of John's shoulder, Jeff didn't even know where he was or whose door they were at.

When Matt saw Jeff wrapped around John's waist and John carrying him like that, he almost laughed, but it was quickly swallowed away and replaced by lust. John brushed his hair out of his face with his free hand and Matt got a good look at him. _John looked fucking delicious. _He was sure Jeff, who was naturally a hyperactive creature, was probably already aroused beyond belief.

"Is it on?" John nodded towards the camcorder that was set up in a corner of the room.

"It's on." Matt replied, and watched as John took Matt's brother over to the bed and tried to dump him on it, but Jeff didn't want to be disengaged so easily. That was okay, John just climbed onto bed with him. Matt wasn't at all sure of what to do, so he pulled up a chair and sank down into it. He knew Jeff lusted after him, but it was something they'd tried to avoid in their later years. There had been nothing of that sort between them since high school days, and truth be told, Jeff wasn't the only one who deeply wanted to experiment with "brotherly lovemaking" again. Matt also knew that Jeff liked to be watched, the both did, they'd talked about it before as strange as that might seem. Matt for now was the watchee rather than the watched. As John ravaged his brothers lips and drew all kinds of sounds from him, Matt quickly started to come alive. Pretty soon he had his pants undone and was lazily stroking himself.

John was finally starting to get warm himself. He wasn't as turned on as Jeff, he was mentally blocking the stimulus of Jeff's reactions and sounds. But it was getting to the point where he needed to shed that damn coat. John laid light kisses down the throbbing pulse of Jeff's neck, letting his fangs scraped against the skin, before he sat back on Jeff's thighs again. Matt watched as Jeff tried to buck up but couldn't because of John's weight on him. It only made Matt harder.

John shrugged out of his trench and tossed it aside. Jeff propped himself on his elbows and practically molested John with his eyes. As if to say 'do you like what you see?' John trailed his hands up and down his sides and his abs, gyrating his hips as he did so, causing someone other than Jeff and himself to groan.

Jeff blinked, as if for the first time fully realizing he'd been carried to another room and bed. He sat up fully and wandered where the hell he was, and then his horny-clouded mind managed to remember one of the other parts of his fantasy. _I wanted Matt to be in on it. _Just then Jeff _knew _who had made that other guttural, animalistic, growl and it nearly killed him.

"Matt?" He gasped out and started to turn his head to the direction of the sound, but John grabbed his chin and snapped it away from the source of the sound and forced Jeff to focus on his face.

"Stop squirming stupid bitch!" John demanded. "I want to taste you." He said softening his tone to a near whisper. He drew Jeff into his arms and buried his mouth at the base of Jeff's neck and dragged the fangs hard enough over the flesh to rake it open. Jeff immediately started to buck against him again wildly, his cries making John's self control slip minutely for just a second. As quickly as it had slipped, it was back in place. John lathed his hot, slithering tongue, over the bloody scrapes on Jeff's neck and then sucked at the lacerations hard and needful, as though the blood really was giving him some sustaining life.

Matt couldn't sit in the chair any longer just watching. Jeff was screaming John's name again and again, his hips thrashing into John's waist, his nails tearing down John's back and ripping the delicate mesh shirt and the skin beneath it to shreds. John changed positions a little, allowing Jeff's legs to be free before they went numb and fell asleep altogether. He moved his hands under Jeff's as and pulled the bucking wild cat into his lap where Jeff's throbbing, clothed, erection pressed again and again into John's belly. Matt got up from the chair and crawled behind Jeff, grinding hard against his ass and pushing him closer into John.

Matt tore the elastic from his own hair and tied Jeff's rainbow tresses up with it to get them out of the way as John worked one side of Jeff's neck, gnawing on it and swirling his tongue over the wounded flesh. Matt settled in flush against Jeff's ass and for a moment just watched John as he dragged the fangs again against his brothers' neck and shoulder ripping more skin. Matt was fighting with controlling himself. He was so close to Jeff, his aching hard on pressing into his ass, all he had to do was reach down and pull Jeff's sweat pants down and he could be _in _Jeff. As if only to confirm this, Jeff rolled his hips back and forth, his still tented cock pressing against John, then his tight little ass grinding against Matt's rock hard length. Matt let out a strangled growl and sank his fangs into Jeff's shoulder, piercing deeper than he had actually meant to. Jeff howled in a mixture of pleasure and pain and he fell limply back against Matt's chest, panting for breath as Matt withdrew his vice like bite and lapped greedily at the blood trailing down Jeff's shoulder and back.

John pulled away from Jeff's neck and scooted back a little. Jeff was leaning against Matt, his eyes lulling around in his head like he had a fever. John looked down and saw a dark splotch spreading at Jeff's crotch. He fought away a smirk, the poor guy hadn't been able to fight it off any longer…but John was still not going to give this game up yet. He honestly found that he was liking it way too much. Plus, there was still a part of Jeff's fantasy that hadn't been fulfilled.

John sat back and watched as Matt reached around and slid his hand under the elastic of Jeff's soaked sweat pants. Jeff closed his eyes and rolled his head against Matt's shoulder. John could see Matt's hand moving in Jeff's pants slowly, exploring, finding spots that were going to make his brother stir to life again. He must have hit something, because the corner of Jeff's lips twitched suddenly and he drew a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh yes Matt, that's it."

Jeff trembled as Matt's fingers—his so familiar fingers that he hadn't felt in too many years—found spots they had played with when they were both still exploring their sexuality. It was wonderful to be back in Matt's arms and feel the way his hand curled around his shaft and moved slowly up and down, becoming slick and sticky with hot, spent, seed. Matt rubbed his crotch against Jeff's ass, wanting it so bad. He used all of his mental will power to hold off and instead ran his tongue across the two puncture holes that were still bleeding freely.

Jeff was soon stiff again and though his muscles already ached he was starting lazy hip rolls into Matt's hand as it gradually quickened pace.

John continued to watch, his resolve gradually waning less and less as the pace of Matt's hand in Jeff's pants and the rock of Jeff's hips into if picked up pace. The two of them were whimpering and moaning each others names. John almost felt out of place being there, but very blissfully out of place. Soon his mesh shirt was feeling painted on and sticky and he couldn't stand it any more so he peeled it away and flung it over his head, shivering when he was free of it.

Matt's hand worked faster and harder and soon John could hear the wet sounds of it sliding up and down with Jeff's spent come making everything juicy and warm inside those pants. John closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, fighting to keep a handle on things. He had wanted it to last as long as possible...although Jeff had already came once.

It seemed like Matt and John were on the same page, because Matt removed his hand from Jeff's pants. John could see the glistening wetness coating Matt's palm and sticky at the webs of his fingers. John had the sudden urge to lunge for that hand and suck each finger one by one into his mouth and clean them off. Instead he fumbled with the front of Jeff's elastic waist band. As one Matt and John disrobed Jeff completely, John pulling off his pants and Matt peeling away his t-shirt. Both pieces of clothes went flying. Jeff was babbling again, moaning and gasping in a string of incoherent words with the occasional "Matt", "John", and "fuck" only being distinguishable.

"Pretty soon love." Matt whispered against Jeff's neck. Matt moved Jeff so Jeff was sitting up on his knees and Matt slid one of his fingers, soaking with Jeff's come, inside.

Jeff was sent into a fit of moaning, grinding, and pleading. Matt was in pain trying to hold off his own climax. John ducked his head down at once, taking Jeff deep into his throat, his fangs sliding carefully along the sides of it as it went down. Jeff thrust hard into John's mouth, nearly rattling Johns teeth as though he'd been caught in the mouth with the rebound of a shot gun.

"Be careful." Matt warned gently. "Jeff, you might hurt yourself on the fangs." Matt nipped at the back of Jeff's neck and slipped in another finger, which only caused Jeff to rocket forward again and scream from the pleasurable pained stretching.

"Guys, I can't do this." Jeff practically cried. He was shaking so hard it was painful. The sensations of John's tongue swirling around his shaft, his throat muscles tensing and relaxing, tightening and closing, along with Matt adding a third finger, was sending him perilously close to his second climax. Jeff felt intensely, inconceivably, stoned out of his fucking mind, and at any moment he was going to reach the peak and careen off the edge of the highest thing he had ever climbed. John growled against the head of Jeff's cock as the smaller man's nails tore his back raw.

"Fuck, oh fuck John, of fuh-fuck Matt—I can't I'm gonna--"

John pulled his head up, quickly releasing Jeff's cock from the hot cavern of his mouth. He swallowed down the stream of Jeff's pre-cum that had drained down his throat and grabbed the base of Jeff's cock squeezing it tight.

"No, not yet." Morrison commanded. Jeff practically burst into tears.

"Please, please John fuck please! I want to come so bad fuck, please!" Tears streamed down his face. The tears stopped when Matt planted his hands firmly on Jeff's hips and pulled Jeff down onto the head of his cock. Both of them cried out, and at once Jeff rolled his hips down and Matt thrust his upwards, immediately hitting Jeff's prostate and making him scream so hard he could taste blood at the back of his throat. If John hadn't been holding tight to the base of Jeffs cock Jeff would have blown everywhere and probably fallen into a coma.

Matt thrust a couple more times then forced himself to be still. Jeff snapped his eyes open and rolled his hips back against Matt.

"Don't fucking stop, Matt, don't stop for fucks sake!"

"Just wait baby." Matt whispered against Jeff's ear, chewing on the lobe.

John hoisted Jeff's legs over his shoulders, a little unsure how this was going to go. He'd never done or had a double penetration before so he wasn't quite sure, but he knew it had to be done quickly because Jeff couldn't last much longer at all, and his own excitement was finally peaking to a point that was almost out of his control.

"Bite him." John commanded, his voice going hoarse and crackling from the strain. Matt did as he was told and sank his teeth in again causing new tears to roll down Jeff's face. Jeff might have screamed again too but his throat was raw, his voice completely gone.

Matt drew his mouth away and licked his full lips that were painted ruby with his brothers' blood. The red stream trickled over Jeff's shoulder and down his chest, parting into little tributaries when it flowed around his erect nipple. John ran his hand over the trail of blood wiping it away and John used it as lube for his own cock, then he slid the head cautiously into Jeff. When he felt Matt's thick, pulsing, cock against his head coupled by Jeff's tight ass, any last shred of will power was broken. Now all three of them were aching for their releases so John pushed harder. The pressure of Matt's hardness against his own was the most amazing thing John ever felt. Jeff was bucking again, crying hoarsely, clinging to John's shoulders as if for life. John could feel Jeff tearing as he forced his way into the unbelievably tight space. John wasn't even half way in and he was afraid he'd kill Jeff if he pushed in all the way. _Just do it John. _He told himself as his mind swam with testosterone overload and the need for all of them to release. _Just like a band-aid, do it quick. _That seemed to be the deciding factor and with one powerful kick of his hips John was in. He and Matt could both feel the trickles of blood dripping Jeff's torn entrance.

That massive, forceful, fuck was all Jeff could take. John hit his sweet spot so hard stars swam before his eyes and electric current tore threw his body. Jeff bucked a couple times and arched so hard he thought his spine would crack from it and he finally released, the fall overboard so powerful he could swear he was drifting unconscious. At the moment Jeff released, his orgasm rocketing powerfully through his body, Matt did too and moments after John followed, both of their cries mingling in ecstasy. Their jets of hot seed coated each other and overflowed Jeff.

Matt pulled out first, then John, both of them fighting for breath. John moved Jeff, but Jeffs eyes just rolled around and his eyelids helplessly fluttered shut. Matt fell back onto the pillows and John eased Jeff down onto Matt's chest where Matt stroked Jeff's soaked rainbow hair so lovingly.

John thought he should leave, but he just couldn't. All of his strength had been spent and there was no way he could make it a few feet to the door let alone up two floors to where his room was. He started to ask Matt if he minded him staying the night, but Matt seemed to know his question and just nodded. John laid down and Matt rolled onto his side, gently settling Jeff in between him and John.

The camera continued to roll, capturing the three of them cuddled together with a trio of soft snores the only sound track.

**Please review if you can remember how to type, lol! **


	3. Chapter 3

**WOW…I can't believe how good this went over! Thank you guys sooo so much for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts. Imma certainly put my all into every chapter, so I promise you guys wont be let down. So, here we go. Next pairing. I just have to say, I really, really, enjoyed writing this one. Happy smutting! Er, I mean reading :)**

"Like it?" The woman handed Mike "The Miz" a hand mirror and spun the chair so he could see his hair from all angles. He smirked, it looked perfect. Since Adam had made up that genius sex game, and Mike had drawn Chris' name and kink…it had given birth to a new storyline. Due to Adams injury Chris had been in a short feud with Mark Henry, after that Creative had been searching for something else. Thanks to Adams little sex game, Mike had the perfect idea to mock Chris the same way he'd mocked Cena, and they loved it. In fact he'd just got done pitching it to them earlier then came straight to get his hair bleached to mimmick the Canadian. It just so happened it would also come in handy for fulfilling Chris' strange Secret Sexer request.

Mike handed the mirror back and shot a scowl at the larger mirror on the wall, he'd secretly been practicing it, and he was getting it down great.

Later that night Mike was up in his room pulling things out of his suitcase. It had taken him some time to get all this just how he wanted it, he'd had Jericho's Post-It note slipped in his wallet for over a week and occasionally pulled it out and read it again, even though he knew what it said. Mike did that just now and licked his lips thinking again about how good this would be. _Not just for Chris…but for me too._

When Mike drew Chris' name from the hat he'd wanted to shriek like a stupid fan girl. It was pretty common knowledge that Mike had a huge crush on the blond. It seemed like everyone knew it except for Chris himself. But after Mike gave Chris his request maybe things would change. Maybe Chris would finally notice him. Anyway, if all that didn't happen, Mike was still going to make it as perfect as he could and a night neither of them would forget anytime soon, if ever.

He peeled off his t-shirt and slid his jeans into a denim puddle on the floor. He stepped out of them and grabbed the pair of trunks from his bag. He ran his fingers lovingly over the familiar jewels that bedazzled it. He half-smirked and slipped them on turning this way and that to admire himself in the mirror. He'd been lucky to get that cute red headed chick in wardrobe to loan him the trunks and the suit. He'd even gotten her to adjust the clothing so it fit him a little better—all he had to do was wrangle her a date with Morrison which he'd managed only after becoming Morrison' bitch himself for a night. _Just like old times…_Mike laughed and put the rest of his clothes on.

He did the routine in front of the mirror again checking every angle and wondering if he should have used more gel on his hair. He felt like his ex-partner John with how much he was posing in front of the mirror, but this was his chance so he had to make it perfect for Chris. He gave one more spin checking out his ass in the pin striped slacks. It was definitely not as round and gropeable as Chris luscious backside, but it was nice. _And I'm not only going to grope his ass tonight, I'm going to nail it just like Chris wants. _The thought was one that had tortured his mind again and again since drawing that Post-It note and just as it always did it sent his mind into buzzing with torrid fantasies. He only jerked out of it when he felt his pants becoming suddenly tight.

After hog tying his fantasy and waiting long enough for his pants to loosen up again, Mike headed up to pay Chris a visit.

The blond was up in his room fighting with jet lag/insomnia which was a regular occurrence. He'd tried going to sleep early because he was so exhausted—around nine actually—but he'd only been up and down unable to sleep. Now it was nearing midnight and he was wide awake despite the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept…or apparently ate. His stomach gurgled painfully and told him to stop fiddling with nonsense on Twitter and feed it. He looked down and frowned at it. He didn't really want to drag himself out of his room and do anything, even if it was just walking down to the end of the hall and getting some junk out of the vending machine.

"Ugh." Chris pouted and whined to himself as he put his shoe on and then wandered around the room trying to remember what he did with the other one. He found it hiding under the bed and shoved it half onto his foot.

Mike took a deep breath and fixed on the scowl he'd been practicing. Butterflies welled up in his belly and he took another breath to try and shoo them away. After all, someone as confident as Chris Jericho had probably never had a single butterfly in his whole life. That was settled, and Mike raised his hand to tap on the door—but it was pulled open. He almost broke character, surprised at the yank of the door, but he managed not to. Chris was the one who yelped in surprise. Mike just stared at him, his frown deepening with disgust.

"Where are you going, Jericho?"

"I was just going to the…" Chris trailed off as he finally understood where he'd seen that nasty scowl before and just why Mike was now wearing it. Chris lips twitched and curled up at one corner. He looked Mike up and down and realized with a growing excitement that was wearing one of Chris' suits that he often wore to the ring…and that even his hair was blond.

"I know a pathetic little worm like you has never seen such greatness before, I am Chris Jericho," Mike sneered. "The greatest human being to ever enter the squared circle, to ever grace the t.v. screens of all those hypocrites, those sheep, who watch at home. I am the greatest, and you stand here and disrespect me, by not even inviting me in?" Mike advanced on Chris causing him to retreat into the room, the whole time Chris' smile just grew wider and wider. Mike kicked the door shut with his foot and grabbed Chris by the shoulders. He spun the older man around and pinned him to the door. The look on Mikes face just dripped with disdain, as though it disgusted him to even touch Chris.

"You better wipe that arrogant grin off your face. You have nothing to be smiling about, you're nothing but a mindless, gelatinous--"

Chris couldn't help his grin widening, it was to the point that it was making his ears hurt. Mike could have no idea how much this was going to get him off. The insults, the attitude, the look, everything about it was spot on. Chris could already feel the effects as his cock twitched a little.

"Why are you smiling!" Mike brought his hand hard against Chris' face, knocking his head back into the door. Chris was effectively stunned, the grin dropped from his lips. "That's better. I am not playing games with you hypocrite." Mike leaned in, his lips just inches from Chris'. He could see Chris' lips part slightly, wanting to kiss him, but waiting to see what Mike was going to do. "You will respect me for the perfection that I am." Mike snarled, shoving Chris back into the door when the Canadian leaned in to capture his lips. The two of them just stared at each other, Mike's eyes roiling with anger as though he'd been severely offended at Chris' lack of reverence.

"I don't know anything about respect." Chris shot back defiantly. The trade mark half-smirk that always made Mike melt was back. Mike loosened his tie and sauntered over to Chris' hotel bed. Chris watched as Mike crossed the room, the kid was even imitating Chris' hip-walk that the guys in the locker room jokingly called 'the-Jericho-stick-up-the-ass-walk'. Mike's near perfect version of it only told Chris what he already knew from re-watching his own entrances, that it was fucking hot. Although, it always looked better in the trunks than in the suit. Mike took the suit jacket off and laid it on the end of the bed, then turned back to Chris.

"What are you looking at, you bottom feeding, scum sucking little leech!"

"Your ass Chris…you're so fucking hot!" Chris breathed out as Mike walked back towards him. The imitation Chris Jericho took his tie off and slipped it over real Chris' head.

"My ass is too good for your dirty little eyes." Mike pulled the knot in the tie tight and yanked it like it was a leash and Chris was a dog bound to it. "Now, I'm going to teach you some fucking respect, bastard rat." Mike wrapped the free end of the tie around his wrist and got behind Chris. He used his foot and gave a shove, almost a kick, to Chris' ass that was hard enough to put him one his knees. The action caused the tie to pull and gag Chris before Mike let the end slide free through his fingers.

Chris wedged his fingers under the tight, binding, collar of fabric and coughed. He was dizzy from the sudden lack of oxygen combined with his growing erection. Before Chris could completely get his senses in check Mike came back in front of him and grabbed a hand full of his hair and snapped his head up. Chris got a full on view of the bulge that was distorting the pinstripes that ran over Mike's crotch.

"Up here!" Mike commanded and Chris rolled his eyes upward and looked at mock-Chris' face as much as he could, it wasn't easy to do when he was on all fours and his imitation Jericho was standing. "Look at me you worthless piece of garbage! Do you know who I am? Do you know what kind of treatment I deserve? You should be kissing the very ground that my holy feet walk over, but then, a brainless sheep like you wouldn't understand that would you?"

Chris shook his head in the negative.

"Teach me how to respect you Mr. Jericho!" Chris gasped, sitting up on his knees and grasping Mike's hips. Chris wanted this so much he was starting to tremble with excitement.

"Fine, I'll teach you. But I'm a hard man, and if your little, pathetic, self can't keep up with my lesson there will be consequences." Mike let go of Chris' hair, but he grabbed the end of the tie again and wrapped it around his wrist ready to jerk Chris around with it. "I don't have a lot of patience for spineless, dickless, hypocrites like you."

"I understand Mr. Jeric--" The word 'Jericho' ended on a strangled, choked sound when Mike reeled the tie back sharply.

"What makes you think I want to hear your useless voice blabbering patheticly?" He glared down at Chris for a few moments, and Chris actually cowered away from him, dropping his eyes. From where Chris was on the floor, the fake Jericho seemed more intimidating than ever, the twisted disgust on his face nastier than ever, and Chris just couldn't look at him.

Chris swallowed hard, gasping for breath that only came as much as the tight knot at his throat would allow. The harder he tried to breath, the more his neck strained against the tight fabric, and the more choked he felt. It actually felt incredible. Chris dipped his hand between his legs and ran his fingers along the straining fly of his jeans. Chris' eyes rolled, the lids slowly sliding closed then open again and he stroked himself harder though his jeans.

Mike should have made him stop but he couldn't. Any thought and any character he was trying to pull off had momentarily flew from his mind. His mouth and throat went dry and the tie went limp in his hand as he watched Chris rolling his hips sluttily into his own greedy hand.

"Oh, fuck." Chris groaned. "You feel so good Chris, so hard!" He whimpered and Mike just wanted him right then and there. _Not yet. _He told himself and he fought to fix the scowl back on his face. He gave the tie a yank and slapped Chris again, harder than any of the times before, his own palm ached from the impact. Chris groaned and rolled his head around. His hand was still stuck between his thighs.

"You're so fucking dirty!" Mike gasped, barely able to ward off a moan from escaping his own lips. He'd meant for that too sound derogatory, he'd meant to say it with disdain, but it hadn't really came out right. Chris was getting to him stroking himself like that. Mike reached between Chris' legs and under Chris' hand. His knees started to feel week when he felt Chris' rock hard length against it. He wanted to taste that hot thing in his mouth, he wanted Chris to fill his mouth and throat with it, to choke him on it and spill his seed like sweet, hot, honey down his throat. _Stop thinking like that. Now is not the time. _Chris thrust into Mike's hand.

"Oh, Mr. Jericho!" Chris moaned, his eyes closed, sweat glittering in his hair and dripping down his face. "Please, fuck please touch me Mr. Jericho I want you to touch me so fucking bad please, please Mr.--" Chris' eyes flew open as pain rocketed up from between his legs and ran hot through each nerve in his body. He gave a cry and tears spilled down his face. Mike had suddenly gripped him so hard that it was that painful.

Mike immediately felt horrible for doing it. Once again he slipped out of character and looked down at Chris concerned for a moment. Chris just looked up at him, biting into his lips, his cheeks burning red as those two trails of tears shimmered.

"P-please Mr. Jericho?" Chris whispered, his face burning even redder.

"No." Mike let go of Chris and Chris relaxed just a little…and after a moment his hand was resting on his thigh twitching. Mike knew that Chris wanted to touch himself again, his fingers were slowly inching back towards the fly of his pants. Mike wanted to just watch Chris handle himself, he could have watched gladly all day and all night as Chris pleasured himself, but that wasn't the point of this. Just as Chris' fingertips went too far Mike snatched Chris' hand away and pressed it to his own erect member. Now both of them groaned together. _You don't know how much I've wanted your hands on me…_Mike thought, starting to breathe hard as he moved Chris' hand over himself. "That's what a real man's cock feels like."

"Let me see…" Chris whined searching for a way into 'Mr. Jerichos' pants. Mike let Chris fumble with the button and as his trembling hands tried to get past that barrier, Mike fought with the buttons on his own shirt. Mike finally tore most of them away and tossed the shirt over his shoulder just as Chris pulled the zipper down with his teeth.

Chris gasped and ran his fingers reverently over the jewels and sequins that stood out against 'Mr. Jerichos' impressive erection. Excitedly Chris slid the pin stripe pants down Mike's hips and let them pool at his feet. His hands rested on Mike's hips and he seemed awestruck at what he was seeing—a pair of his own trunks, black with maroon bangles trimmed in silver sequins—across the front in jewels JERICHO—the 'r-i-c' distorted and pulled so tight he could see the outline of 'Mr. Jerichos' head.

Chris' mouth moved silently up and down, unable to make any words, because his brain couldn't put any letters together that made sense.

"Why don't you make use of that mouth of yours? I bet even a worthless, fucked-up, mindless little vermin like you can give a blow job can't you?" Mike chuckled darkly. "I'll give you something to respect then, a big tasty something to respect you fucking filthy maggot!" Before Mike could guide Chris to do anything, Chris had plunged his face into Mike's throbbing crotch and was kissing the head of his erection through the spandex, licking and lapping at it like a dog who was trying desperately to quench his thirst by licking a drop of rain from the parched earth.

Chris moaned and whimpered, the vibrations against Mike's head making him unable to stay still as he wiggled and writhed trying to hold on to his failing character. _Fuck Chris, oh fuck, fuck! _Mike gripped Chris' hair and closed his eyes as he felt the burning wetness of Chris' tongue through the material that just barely kept their flesh from being together.

Mike knew he couldn't take this much longer and he didn't want it to end awkwardly like this. He jerked Chris' head back and Chris grinned lustily at the clothed cock in front of him.

"Mr. Jericho, lemme see it please? Let me taste it, oh fuck, please Mr. Jericho! I wanna taste you so bad!" Chris whimpered and ripped his own hair as he pulled against Mike's fingers that were tangled in his highlights.

"When I let you, you'll taste me, and I guarantee you'll remember that taste on your tongue for the rest of your miserable life. You'll lust for it the middle of the night, in the middle of the day, but that's all you'll be able to do."

Chris whined and gripped Mike's legs trying to pull him forward. Mike stayed rooted in place. He wrapped the end of the tie back around his wrist as a warning that if Chris tried to lunge for him he was going to snap it back. Chris sat up on his knees watching intently as Mike edged down the waist band of the Jericho trunks. Chris looked just like a trained dog with a treat on his nose, his master making him to _wait, wait, wait, _as the hungry animal fidgets with electrical anticipation.

The trunks came down and Mike's erection sprang into view. He gasped as it was freed from the humid, tight, confines of the spandex. He wanted nothing more than Chris sheathed around his length. He'd almost lost his concentration and hadn't at first realized what was happening—that Chris had cautiously leaned forward and was flicking his tongue out at the tip. Mike almost thrust hard, right into Chris' eye, and he probably would have come too, but he quickly grabbed himself at the base and moaned raggedly. Mike leaned back against the bed, feeling overwhelmed and out of control. He closed his eyes for a brief moment but they snapped open in wide shock.

Chris couldn't take it anymore, in one swallow he took Mike into his mouth all the way up to his fisted hand. Mike gave out a strangled cry as Chris' mouth surrounded him and his tongue moved, the muscles of Chris' throat tensing and relaxing. Mike was stuttering something but he didn't even know what it was.

Chris impatiently shooed Mike's hand out of the way, and forgetting what he was doing, Mike removed it. Chris took him down the rest of the way and whimpered and groaned against Mike's cock as he slid his tongue along the bottom and sucked hard. He slowly pulled back unsheathing Mike's hardness and dragging his teeth as he did it, like a tease lolling a popsicle sluttily in and out. He stopped at the head and swirled his tongue around it. Mike couldn't take it and Chris' teeth sang with pain as fake Jericho hammered into them, unable to control the thrusts of his hips.

Chris parted his teeth and was going to take 'Mr. Jericho' back down again but Mike just slammed in gagging him. Somehow that one, rough, motion helped Mike to get a handle back on his character and he put the scowl back to his face.

"You're such a slut, a dirty, cockroach, slut!"

He picked up the pace, sliding in and out of Chris' throat a little faster and a little harder. Chris' hands came up to Mike's hips and when Mike thrust forward again Chris pulled him more forcefully. Mike shuddered, Chris was so fucking hot. _I don't want this to end. _Mike thought as the brutally wonderful mouth fuck continued.

"Hey," Mike panted, his eyes rolling up at the ceiling. "Hey, assclown…I wa-want…you to—oh fuck Chris—I want you to stroke yourself--you fu-fucking…mhm…trashbag whore! Do it, do it now! I-I wanna see just how low, how disgusting, you really are."

Chris stroked himself as 'Mr. Jericho' fucked his mouth and throat and it was only moments before they both came, almost in unison. Chris let go all over Mikes' feet, onto the carpet, over his own hand, and his throat and mouth was filled to the brink with Mr. Jerichos load. He swallowed it all down and Mike collapsed back onto the bed. Chris loosened the knot around his neck and panted, licking his sticky lips.

For a few moments there was no sound in the room but heavy breathing. The room was so hot, it felt more like a sauna. Mike just stared up at the ceiling and watched the light fixture blur in and out of focus. Chris was getting rid of his soaked shirt followed by jeans and briefs. All he left on was the tie. He went over to Mike and knelt at the edge of the bed, spreading Mike's thighs so he could come up between them.

Mike's cock was still dripping and sticky, so Chris cleaned it with his mouth. He swallowed that too even though his stomach was already hurting, he'd barely managed to swallow down the jet after jet that Mike had filled him with.

"Chris no, don-don't do that please." Mike sighed, reaching between his legs and pushing at Chris' forehead.

"But I love how you taste Mr. Jericho." Chris coughed.

"I'm Mike."

Chris crawled up onto the bed and straddled Mike's waist.

"Not yet…" He said softly. "Don't you remember exactly what I wrote on the note? I…" Chris trailed off and shifted his eyes around the room, his face glowing with embarrassment. "I…wanted to-to be fucked by…myself." He stuttered out, almost wishing he hadn't said it and just taken what he'd got. It was fucking amazing as it was. If Mike really, _really, _didn't want to do anymore then he wouldn't push it…but that would just be the best of the best, the orgasm of all orgasms. Chris pouted.

"Shit Chris, what are you some kind of glutton for punishment?" Mike chuckled as he propped himself up on his elbows.

"Yes, fuck yes!" Chris grinned wide and wiggled his ass against Mike's newly growing erection. The younger man immediately frowned and knocked Chris off of him. Chris tumbled off the bed with a shriek and landed in a heap.

"How many times, you fucking stupid-ass, cock sucking, gelatinous, spineless little worm, do I have to tell you to wipe that shit-eating grin off of your rodent-like face!"

The night ended with 'Mr. Jericho' pounding Chris' delicious, tight, ass so hard they were both in pain when it was over. They both came like thunder and lightening, harder than the first time, as Chris shouted 'Mr. Jericho' over and over so loud everyone in the hotel could probably hear it. They rested together on the bed, unable to move from where they'd crumpled next to each other.

Mike ran his fingers through Chris' soaking hair, making him drift off sleepily, and occasionally he gently touched the ring of black and purple that was marking Chris' neck like a collar. He kissed Chris' lips gently.

"Chris…"

"Hmmph?"

"Chris, Mr. Jericho didn't hurt you too bad, did he?" Mike asked watching as Chris smiled sleepily, his blue eyes glimmering beautifully with pleasure.

"Shut up assclown." Chris sounded like someone trying to talk with a bad case of laryngitis. "Go to sleep." Chris yawned and snuggled into Mike's chest. Mike dropped his head back on the pillows, the last thought drifting through his mind before he slipped to sleep: _I hope Chris drew my name._


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all for the reviews, faves, and alerts. Here's some more for ya's!**

Friday night SmackDown was winding down, the main event was just getting underway. Chris had already came down the ramp, scowling at the crowd and looking pompous as ever as Rey waited for him in the ring. Dolph was with King and J.R. and he slipped the headset on so he could commentate with them. The camera panned over, catching Dolph smirking at Lawler and offering a hand.

"I'm Dolph Ziggler."

Under the table, Evan Bourne was hiding. Just in the previous match, Evan had come out to interfere. It was convenient for what he was going to do that night. After his interference he was pushed out of the ring and rolled under the announced table when the cameras weren't on him. J.R. and King didn't even notice they were so caught up in the match. If they wandered where he was when the match was done with, they didn't make any mention of it. He'd just waited there for the main event, knowing Dolph was due to be guest commentator.

Evan grinned under the table and moved so he had perfect view of Dolph's crotch. The bleach superstar had requested 'a sexual act in public'. It didn't get more public than a jam packed arena, not to mention the millions watching around the world. The usually sweet Bourne was feeling devious and it was kind of nice. No one would probably expect him to go along with such a thing. He inched closer to Dolph, his hands shaking, and he ran a hand up Dolph's thigh.

Dolph jerked back, the sudden touch throwing him off. He glared down between his legs. Was this another pull-a-joke-on-the-rookie thing that one of the older guys had dreamed up? The hand ducked away and came back only moments later, a crumpled Post-It as evidence cluing Dolph in to what was going on. His heart immediately thundered in his chest. _Here, now?! _

The blond looked around at the sea of faces cheering on Rey and booing Jericho. He licked his lips thinking of all the people all over the world watching as…

Dolph scooted his chair in a little more and tried to keep a straight face, as though someone wasn't under the table tracing ticklish fingertips up and down his thighs. He managed to catch a couple of J.R.'s questions and answer them well enough, and throw in a comment here or there about the match. But his mind was mostly else where. He couldn't keep from panning his gaze over the crowded stands. The mysterious hands pushed his legs apart and snaked up to the button of his jeans, popping it open and pulling down the zipper.

"You claim you're a better man than Rey Mysterio, but when Mysterio tried to confront you in the ring Dolph, you ran away." J.R. was saying. Dolph shifted in his seat, squirming, as fingers snuck into the opening of his jeans and easily pulled him free since he wasn't wearing anything underneath the denim.

"I-I am a better compet-petitor than…Rey…Mysterio." Dolph stuttered. "I just didn't see a rea-eason in staying…getting involved in…"

"And Jericho!" J.R. yelled, thankfully saving Dolph from having to try to say anything more. "Jericho, trying to turn Mysterio over to lock in the Walls of Jericho!"

"Harder." Dolph moaned to the hands under the table. He rocked his hips in his chair and chewed his lip ragged. He closed his eyes a few moments, just imagining all the eyes that must be on him every time the camera turned towards the announce table.

"Ziggler, Ziggler?"

Dolph flicked his eyes open. Lawler was trying to talk to him about something, he wasn't sure. He didn't bother trying to answer and instead issues some threat about what he was going to do to Mysterio…although it fell off his lips rather oddly like a whine. He watched the match uninterested now. Jericho hadn't been able to get Mysterio in the Walls of Jericho, so they were at it again with Mysterio flying off the ropes like a Mexican ping-pong ball.

That didn't even matter, those hands under the table were working wonders. Dolph's cock was hard and throbbing, wanting something more than just ghostly touches and fisted pumping. He thrust his hips forward as much as he dared to without making a complete scene. The hand responded by falling away.

Dolph sat completely still and extremely aroused. Eyes were on him, cameras flicked back and forth, catching his wet face and glazed expression. He could hear the voices of King and J.R. in his headset but he couldn't concentrate on what they were saying. His nerves were buzzing with excitement and the longer he sat there waiting for the hands to come back, the more fidgety he became, ready to just disappear his own hand under the table and get off. Something had to be done anyway, the match would be over soon, and Dolph didn't really like the idea of going into the ring to congratulate Jericho on his victory with a raging hard-on bulging his jeans.

He was just about to slide his hand underneath when hot breath ghosted over his head. _Fuck, fuck, fuck! _Dolph chewed his lip harder tasting blood on his tongue. There was nothing, then it happened again, the wet puff of air against him like a pair of puckered lips trying to extinguish a birthday candle. Dolph gripped the edge of the announced table, wiggling and fidgeting and fighting to keep quiet as the teasing continued.

Evan bit down on his finger, trying not to laugh. He was rather enjoying driving the guy mad…and on live t.v. Evan took a moment to swallow away his laughter and when he composed himself he gripped Dolph's thighs and moved them apart a bit more. The superstars sizeable erection was bumping up against the underbelly of the table. Evan wrapped a hand around it and guided it towards his mouth where he flicked his tongue out, just barely tasting. He felt a shiver run through Dolph's body, so he did it again, this time lingering a little longer, letting his tongue caress the throbbing head.

Lawler glanced over at Dolph, and quirked an eyebrow at him wondering why he was breathing hard into the head set. Dolph just grinned over at him and rocked his hips as the lips under the table slipped over the end of his cock and sucked, like a mouth sucking hard on a straw.

"Fuck!" Dolph swore, growling when the lips pulled away.

Evan leaned forward on his knees and waited a few more moments, his hands still on Dolph's thighs. He could feel the tenseness in Dolph's muscles and knew he was teasing, but it was so much fun. Evan dipped his head down, about to take Dolph fully into his mouth when the impatient blond thrust his hips foreward sending a shudder through the table and jabbing Evan right in the eye.

"Ow!"

A muffled groaned came from under the table. Lawler was staring again, wondering if what he thought was happening actually _was _happening. Before Dolph could think through the stupid thing he was doing, he grabbed Jerry's hand and slipped it between his legs. When Lawler's eyes grew to the size of plates Dolph just laughed and wiggled against King's hand. The older man yelped and hastily tugged his wrist free of Dolph's grip. He held it out in front of him staring at the palm as though it had suddenly sprouted cancer.

Under the table Evan rubbed at his eye, tears streaming down his face from the impact. He blinked a couple times, wiped away his tears, and leaned up again hoping that he wouldn't be blinded in the other eye this time. He stroked Dolph's length a couple times before taking it into his mouth and swallowing it down slowly, his hands gripped Dolph's thighs tight and kept them still when the bleached blond wanted to just thrust forward. Evan could hear Dolph's nails scrabbling at the table top as Evan swallowed against his cock and took it deeper. He could hear the sound of a crash against the table and the thing rattled. He knew it had to be Dolph crashing his fists against the table in annoyance at the tantalizing slow pace.

This time, J.R. had finally realized that something was off. King had seemed to quiet down and lose his focus on the match, and Dolph was breathing hard into the headset. When the table shook, J.R. leaned over it cautiously and glanced down at Dolph, his brows pulling together in confusion. The veteran looked at Jerry, as though he knew, and Lawler just shook his head and started to talk about how the Jericho v. Mysterio feud had began. He succeeded in getting J.R. distracted from the young man at the end of the table and drawn back into the world of wrestling.

Once he'd gotten J.R. back on track and conveniently disinterested in Dolph, he jerked Dolph's headset off of him and glared angrily. Dolph just gave a little shrug, and mentally berated himself. This was going to get him in big, big fucking trouble. _But all these people…_ The match didn't matter, nothing else did. He just watched all the faces in the audience and concentrated on their shouts and cheers, imagining they were all egging him on as his cock hit the back of the throat under the table.

Evan growled, the rough sound vibrating up out of his throat and buzzing through Dolph's cock making him shiver and roll his hips in quick, impatient bursts. Bourne sucked him hard, hollowing his cheeks out. He pulled back slowly dragging hard on the thick cock. It gradually slid out of his mouth and finally the head came free with soft 'pop' sound. Evan licked his lips and watched the pearly pre-cum ooze over the head. He dipped down to lap it away and play with the head a little more until he could feel Dolph building up, ready to rocket his erection into Evan's eyeball again. Evan grinned fisted the thick cock in his hand. He let Dolph thrust into it.

His other hand slid into Dolph's jeans and forced itself under Dolph. He must have realized what Evan was doing. Dolph's hands gave up their grip on the table for a tight hold on the edge of his chair and he raised up enough to let the mystery hand slide inside his jeans and beneath him. The fingers groped at his ass and found their way between his ass cheeks where they moved like probes searching for an entrance.

Dolph didn't care what he looked like or what he was saying anymore. The taste of blood was in his mouth from chewing his lips raw and he could feel a trickle of the warm crimson drip down his chin. He gave up on trying to stay quit and just let a stream of whimpers and moans and pleasurable curses drip from his mouth. Jerry held his forehead against his hand—the one that Dolph hadn't molested—as though he was getting a terrible migraine. Dolph closed his eyes and trembled as he felt millions of eyes burning into him, as he heard millions of voices chanting his name (they were really cheering for Rey, but in his mind it was 'Dolph').

A curious fingertip found his opening and wiggled inside. Dolph grinded down against it, urging it deeper. His arms were beginning to ache and tremble from holding his weight up from the chair like that, but still the person under the table was taking things excruciatingly slowly. The finger submerged itself a little more, and those amazing lips came back to his cock, the fucking wet little tongue flicking and teasing, swirling in the smoldering stream that was dripping eagerly from his head.

"Fuck, oh please, more!" Dolph panted, insane with the torture. He was getting louder, to the point where Jerry was stuttering and motioning for the cameras to stay away from Dolph's face. Luckily, none of Dolph's pleas and cries were picked up on the mics, but he imagined that all those people watching the broadcast at home could see him writhing and hear him moaning.

Evan slipped his finger in up to the second knuckle and smirked when Dolph wiggled against it forcing himself down against it so it was in to the hilt. Even under the table Evan could hear Dolph's pleading whimpers. Evan moved his finger around inside, stroking it in time to the strokes of his tongue against' Dolph's head. After a few moments, he slid in a second finger and stroked harder. He could feel Dolph moving his hips up and down and Evan started to giggle against Dolph's cock just picturing the guy looking like he was humping the seat of his chair, bobbing up and down behind the announce table.

Evan's third finger prodded at Dolph's entrance and forced itself just fingertip deep. Dolph was begging, _please, please, please. _Evan forced the third finger deep inside, at the same time taking Dolph' back into his mouth and throat completely. He pistoned the fingers in and out, finding Dolph's sweet spot, and then hitting it again and again and again as he sucked with his mouth so hard he was making himself see stars.

Bourne kept it up and felt Dolph's hands groping blindly under the table. They found Evan's head and tried to grab his short hair but couldn't. Dolph's shaking hands found their way to the back of Evan's head and pulled him violently forward. His cock jammed down Evan's throat, gagging him and making him cough but the vibrations and jerky movements of the throat muscles only served to push Dolph closer to the edge, paired with Evan's fingers ramming into his prostrate. In the ring Rey bounced of the ropes and sprang toward Jericho, ready to hit the six-one-nine. Dolph didn't even know who was in the match by now, all he knew was that the roof was coming off the place and it was as though everyone there was winding up and up, the arena vibrating and ready to climax with a powerful orgasm along with Dolph. That was what finally pushed him over, and he came hard, choking Evan again and spilling down his throat.

Dolph slumped back into the chair, feeling like his skeleton had just turned into jell-o. His eyes rolled back, a goofy, pleasured grin hung on his face. The hit of Mysterio's victory music was supposed to be his key to run into the ring and cause some commotion, but nothing was further from Dolph's mind…and running up into the ring with his pants around his ankles and his cock dripping was probably not going to prove good for ratings—well maybe it would—but it wouldn't be a smart way to get on Vince's good side. He probably couldn't make it up to the ring anyway, probably not even up from his chair. He was in a kind of trance, the thought that he'd just been blown and fingered on _fucking SmackDown _sending him into a state of ecstasy that he'd never felt before.

Under the table Evan was trying to cough up a lungful of semen. _When it's my turn, this better be good, or I'm going to kick Copelands ass for even thinking up such a game._

**I um, was laughing the whole time I wrote this. Evan being dirty just doesn't feel quite right to me lol! But I guess Dolph enjoyed it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, faved, alerted, etc. Just a couple things, I'm not Catholic sorry if I offend anyone, and I also do not know Spanish. I used a translator so I most likely screwed it up. If anyone knows Spanish I'd be interested to know what I actually had Rey saying, lmao! Oh, and I'm not sure about Rey's nickname either, Adam wanted it...and it is kinda cute. :)  
**

"How did you manage to do that?" Dave asked Adam as they walked out of the arena together, Adam still limping a little from his injury. The blond bobbled his head arrogantly and snapped his gum.

"I have my ways." He answered with a smirk, and handed Dave a folded note. "Here, give that to Rey-Boo."

Dave gave an eye roll. He hated it when anyone else used his pet name for Oscar, "Boo" which was short for "Booyaka".

"Don't get an attitude." Adam teased and gave Dave a hearty slap on his shoulder. Dave narrowed his eyes.

"Copeland, you just love to ask for an ass kicking." Dave growled.

"Not now, I have things to do." Adam grinned, thinking of the one word that was next to the name on the Post-It he drew: Priest. "Maybe later big fella, eh?"

Dave shook his head and parted ways from the Rated R Reject. He went back to the hotel room that he was sharing with Oscar and tossed him the folded note. The small man opened the note cautiously, as though he was afraid it might be booby trapped or something. He read over the sloppy handwriting almost fell off the edge of the bed. Dave looked up from his suitcase that he was rummaging through and quirked an eyebrow at Oscar.

"You okay there?"

"Si…fine amigo." He looked down at the note again reading it for a second time. "I have to go out." He said shortly, standing and stuffing the note into his pocket.

"Oh?" Dave tried not to smile too much, having an idea about what was going on.

"Back later." Oscar mumbled as he headed for the door.

The highflier made his way quickly into the lobby and out to the parking lot where his rental was parked. He sat behind the wheel for a few moments and pondered over the note, chewing on his lip, in indecision about whether he should go through with it or not. He'd been creative with his request, maybe too much, and now he was having cold feet. Besides, he didn't even know who this note was from or who he was going to meet to engage in such activity…_don't back out now…at least go to see who it is._

Oscar stuffed the note into the cup holder and peeled out of the parking lot. After a while driving in the wrong part of town and stopping to ask for directions twice, Oscar found himself in a seedy looking part of town, parked in front of a run down looking church. The building was eerie, the stone face dark, the stained glass windows dingy and cracked, some even broken. He knew this was a bad idea, and again thought of just forgetting the whole insane idea, but he didn't.

He got out of his car and wandered up the sidewalk to the crumbling steps. His chest tightened when he got to the door and rested his hand on the heavy handle. He stood up on his toes to peak through a piece of broken glass. All he could see was the darkened foyer with a few abandoned pieces of furniture and maybe a statue here and there scrawled with obscene graffiti. He felt like he was getting ready to walk into some kind of drug deal or something. He pulled the note out again to make sure he was at the right place. He was indeed.

Oscar mumbled a little prayer in Spanish before pulling the door open with a creak and stepping in. When he got inside, he noticed a soft flicker of light. He shifted his eyes cautiously around the room looking at the broken statue of Mary which seemed to watch him. With a shiver Oscar scuttled past it and into the sanctuary where he pressed his back against the door and looked around.

With the evening sun filtering through the high windows it was a little dark, but the shadows wavered on candle light. Oscars heart hammered at his chest and his knees went rubbery. _You need to say adios and get out of here, believe me. _Instead of leaving he just leaned heavily against the doors and tried to calm his breathing. He took out the note again. It bid him come and confess.

With a trembling sigh, Oscar walked over to the confessional and pulled back the dirty purple curtain. He ducked inside, sweat slicking his face. He sat down and rung his hands nervously and wished that he had his mask on, as though it could hide him even from this place. He didn't know who was on the other side of the curtain that separated one side of the confession booth from the other, but he knew the persons intention…after all, he had written this fantasy next to his name.

"Bendígame Padre ya que he pecado…Bless me Father for I have sinned…" Oscar spoke softly, crossing himself.

"Sinned?" The voice on the other side spoke with a hint of familiarity that Oscar couldn't quite place in his nervous state.

"Yes…"

"Have you had inappropriate thoughts? Disgusting fantasies of a sexual nature?"

There was silence as Oscar dropped his eyes and played with the hem of his t-shirt.

"I know what you've been thinking." The priest said, his voice low and taking on a tone that was obviously seductive. "You've been thinking, my child, about dirty things. Your mind has been corrupted by obscenities, impurities, lust…"

Oscar wiggled nervously and mumbles some Spanish words. The "priest" didn't know what they were so he just went on, smirking in the shadows, picturing how he was making "Boo" uncomfortable.

"Do you want to touch me? You want to touch this servant of God don't you? You want to be such a dirty little follower, fall to you knees in front of my altar, and take my offering into your mouth…feel it throbbing and hot against your tongue, my son is that what you want?"

The mock-priest listened, hearing nothing but quick, whispered words in Spanish, and hard breathing.

"You know, my son, you must atone for your sins. You want me to make you atone for your sins? For your filthy, animalistic urges, is that what you want!"

Oscar cowered back against the wall, the words of the priest coming in shouted bursts.

"I'm leaving—I'm—I must leave--debo marcharme, debo marcharme rápidamente ahora!"

Oscar bolted from the confessional but the priest was behind him and just as he reached the doors and grabbed for them madly, the priest grabbed his waist and spun him around, pressed his shoulders to the heavy door and smirked down at him. Oscars mouth ran dry and his words failed him. The priest was a tall, slender man wearing black slacks and a black button-up shirt with the collar at the top which told all that he was a man of God. His long, beautiful blond hair fell over his shoulder like a rain of gold. His lips were set in an arrogant grin, his blue eyes sparkling with depths of mischief, his head bobbled cockily. He dragged his fingers through his long hair, pulling it back from his face, but it just fell down again, so sexily down against his face and over his shoulders.

"A-A-Adam…" Oscar stuttered out, transfixed by the way he looked—the hottest, naughtiest thing that had probably ever stepped foot into a house of worship.

"Father Copeland." He smirked, popping his gum. "And I'm not letting you get away so easily. You have sins you must atone for…" Adam held one of Oscar's hands in his and ran it slowly up the inside of his leg, watching in fascination as Oscar looked both turned on and horrified.

Father Copeland ducked down to capture his lips, taking them roughly and forcing them open. Oscar struggled between Adam's body and the door, bucking wildly and trying to escape, but it did nothing but get them both excited. Adam pushed into Oscar harder, partly to still his struggling, and mostly so he could feel the erection he was giving to his priest. The smaller man groaned at the hardness that was pressed into him, his hand found it and caressed it through the fabric. In response Father Copeland kissed him harder, forcing his tongue deeper and tasting blood against Oscars lips.

Oscar practically melted into the door, thankful that it was there to hold him up because he didn't think he could stand on his own. Father Copeland was going after his mouth lustfully, ravaging it with thrusts of his tongue, and Oscar couldn't keep his hands to himself. He stroked Adam harder, groaning around his tongue when he felt Father Copelands hardness grow steadily and stretch the fabric between his legs. Adam pulled away from the kiss leaving Oscar panting, his lips hot and still wanting more. The smaller man threw his head back panting and smacked it into the thick stained glass, not caring that it made him see stars.

"Oh, Father Copeland, tan jodienda grande…"

Adam let Oscar continue to pet him, the movement and friction of the fabric against his head making him harder and harder.

"My child…" Father Copeland growled. "You're so dirty, so fucking dirty, you want Father Copeland, don't you? Oh, tell me you want Father Copeland…where? Fucking your pretty mouth, cumming down your throat like fire…or you want Father Copelands enormous, fat, cock fucking you deep inside…I can fill your soul like no other." Adam leaned in to Oscar, breathing the last few words dripping wet and sizzling against his ear. His lips traced down Oscars neck feeling the pulse jump wildly. Father Copeland snakes his tongue out and ran it along the vibrating vessel and rocked his hips, pushing his straining member against Oscars hands. The old, abandoned, sanctuary was filled with heavy panting and a stream of sweet, hurried, Spanish occasionally broken by a needful moan or mewl.

"You won't tell me what you want…are you ashamed of yourself?"

Oscar chewed his lip, trying to keep his moans and whines to himself but failing. He looked up at Father Copeland, his impossibly big, dark eyes, shimmering with tears of shame. Oscar nodded his head slowly and felt his face burn as he imagined scenario after luscious, wicked, scenario. His head was aching as the fantasies pounded through it and he tried to stomp them down. The irreverent, sacrilegious, thought just became more and more obscene in Oscars mind.

He felt Father Copeland pull away, and a growl burst out of him as he grabbed at his stiff, white collar and pulled Adam forward so hard the collar choked him for a moment before tearing free. Oscar quickly tossed it aside and twined his fingers at the back of Adams neck, in his long, beautiful hair, and crashed the priests lips to his own. This time it was Oscars tongue that nearly choked Father Copeland, and Oscars teeth that shredded the priests lips in the hasty pursuit of more. Oscar curled one of his legs around Adams and moved against it, rolling his hips and rubbing against Adam's thigh as he tried still to deepen the kiss and taste more of Father Copelands hot, sticky, mouth.

After a few more moments Adam pulled away and he shivered as Oscars fingernails dragged over the back of his neck, a pout forming on the Mexicans swollen, bruised lips. Adam smirked, and left Oscar leaning shakily against the door. The smaller man mumbled to himself and tried to catch his breath. The priest sauntered up to the front of the sanctuary, swaying his hips so Oscar got a good show of his ass moving.

"Are you watching?" Adam chuckled, and kept his back turned to Oscar as he unhooked the buttons of his shirt one by one then pulled the hem out of his pants, and shrugged his shoulders out of the shirt. He turned his head over his shoulder to see Oscar and the end of the isle still propped against the heavy doors, his chest heaving. Father Copeland smirked deviously and shimmied out of the shirt. It fell down by his feet and he flipped his hair back over his shoulders where it fell softly over his back, just begging to be touched.

Adam laughed quietly to himself, he could hear Oscar chanting in Spanish again. He walked up to a dust covered table and removed the towel he'd draped earlier over the items on the table. Oscar just watched fascinated, wondering what Father Copeland was doing. He was so intrigued he barely noticed his feet inching cautiously foreward, down the isle, between the twin flanks of pews, his own shirt being shed along the way. Father Copeland turned around and noticed Oscar. He just gave him a slutty little look over and ran his tongue over his broken lips, and tossed his hair back. He grabbed a couple of things from the table—a white wafer and a chalice—and he moved to the altar and reclined back against the old rickety thing, almost falling but managing to catch himself without looking to stupid. Oscar was so entranced he probably didn't notice.

Father Copeland grinned at Oscar and bobbled his head.

"My clothes…shed for you." Father Copeland said, his voice husky. He sat the chalice behind the altar and slipped the wafer between his teeth, growling.

Oscar moved shakily foreward, a million things telling him to stop this, how wrong it was, but it was that wrongness that made him want it so much. Adam Copeland had to be the wrongest fucking thing ever, and right now, Oscar wanted him so badly he was aching. He crawled between Father Copelands legs and snaked up his body. He could feel the priests raging erection prod at his belly as he leaned in, laying his body flush against Adam's. He brought his lips close to Father Copelands and opened his mouth and Adam pushed the wafer into his mouth with his tongue.

Father Copeland reached back and held up the chalice over his head, growling as Oscar rolled his hips forcefully forwards causing their clothed hard-ons to bump and grind against one another. It was driving both of them mad, their excited members straining both of their pants till they thought the seams would burst.

"Ah Padre Copeland, por favor--jode por favor, ah joderme tan con fuerza, mmm Padre Copeland! Por favor fuck me hard Padre Copeland, joderme tan con fuerza!"

"These are my vows…" Father Copeland panted against Oscars lips as brought the chalice up, forcing Oscar's lips away from his. "These are my vows, broken for you." Father Copeland tilted his head back and poured the wine over his face. Oscar watched in a horny stupor as the dark, crimson liquid dripped into Father Copelands hair staining ruby, as the streams leaked over his lips, down the sides of his face, down his neck, and chest. Father Copeland continued to empty the cup over his neck and chest and when it was voided, he let it roll out of his hand and it clanged against the floor.

Oscar whined and whimpered, his tongue flicked out against Father Copelands face tasting the salty, grape-tang of wine mingling with sweat.

He closed his eyes and lathed his tongue over Father Copelands lips, down his chin, and over his neck suckling hard enough to make the wet skin beneath his lips bruise.

"Oh-ah…mi Padre engéndrele gusto tan bien contra mis labios, so good, taste so mucho bueno!"

Oscar trailed his lips down Father Copelands chest and licked at each of his nipples, swirling them to hard points as the priests hands roamed over the working, tensing muscles in Oscars back, down to his waist where they rested for a few moments just feeling the movement of Oscars body. Adam panted and grabbed Oscars ass as the smaller man rolled his hips harder against Adams waist.

"Fuck Rey, fuck…you're making me so hard, you're so bad…making me hard." Adam bucked up against Oscar, as though his rock hardness grinding into Oscars belly wasn't already enough proof of arousal. Oscar slid down between Father Copelands thighs, the priests erection now bobbing against his chest as he snaked his tongue into Adam's navel lapping up the wine that pooled there. Father Copeland bucked harder, unable to stop himself as the teasing, tickling sensation of Oscars tongue drove him pleasurably mad.

"Down!" Adam grunted and pushed Oscars head between his legs. "Show me—show me how sinful you are…fuck!" Father Copeland cursed as Oscars teeth freed the button of his tight pants and dragged down the zipper. He was wearing nothing underneath and his impressive member exposed itself, gaining a mutter of appreciation from Oscar. Adam raised his hips up and Oscar helped him wiggled out of the pants and then he tossed them over his shoulder admiring Father Copelands long, pretty, creamy legs. Oscar licked his lips and positioned himself back between Father Copelands legs and ducked his head down. He rolled his tongue over Adams engorged head and lapped at the drizzle of pre-cum that leaked out.

He sucked as much of Father Copeland as he could into his mouth and throat without choking and bobbed his head up and down, rolling his tongue on the underside of the priests cock, and scraping his nails down those gorgeous thighs. Adams cries were become harder to keep silent and the harder Oscar sucked on him the more frantic they became. He pulled away from the priests' cock and crawled up his body, licking and lathering his tongue against the simmering skin as he went.

"You taste muy bueno mi Padre, but…but that's not how I want you, no." Oscsar swallowed hard fighting with his words and trying to remember two languages while being so turned on out of his mind was difficult to say the least.

"Wha-what?" Adam stuttered, not sure of what Oscar meant. "Oh, you want me…to fuck that pretty little ass of yours? You want me to fuck it hard don't you?" Adam leered.

"Ah, no, quiero sepultar mi pene en su trasero tan apretado tan caliente y…y jódalo hasta que su mente sea perdida." _I want to bury myself into your hot, tight, ass…and fuck you until you lose your mind._

Oscar latched onto Father Copelands wrists and dragged him over to one of the pews. Before Adam could bend Oscar over the end of the pew—which was what the blond thought he wanted—his own face met the dusty, foul smelling cushion. He turned his head to the side and cough, tears streamed down his face from the dust puffing back in his eyes.

"Hey, Oscar--"

"Silencio Padre Copeland, silencio!" Oscar commanded, breathing so hard he felt dizzy. When Adam started to protest Oscar grabbed a dirty old hymnal that was lying on the floor and whacked it against Father Copelands ass so hard the spine of the deteriorating book broke. Adam yelped and clawed at the fabric on the cushion.

"Oscar—wait a minute just--" Adam yelled again, this time it was Oscars palm stinging against his backside. Father Copeland buried his face into the musty cushion and felt Oscsars hands, more gently this time, rubbing softly over the painful skin, where Adam knew there would be welts in the morning.

Oscar stroked himself a couple times, wet his fingers with his own pre-cum, and slid a finger tip into Father Copelands entrance. The combined arousal from fingering 'a priest' and feeling how tight Adam was had him struggling to keep himself together. His endless Spanish babbling even ceased. His English had failed him a long time ago and now the part of his brain that worked his mouth had shut down all together. He just closed his eyes and slipped his finger further inside, the only sounds he could make sounded animalistic and saturated with lust. He could hear Adams voice in the background sounding like a whine but the English words didn't make sense to him anymore.

"Oscar, I-I-I don't know about this I-I don't bottom I'm a top…I-I've ne-never--"

Oscar drowned out Adams incoherent words with his own inner voice which was running on overdrive: _So tight, so fucking tight he's going to feel so good wrapped around my…mhm…_

Oscar added another finger and worked that for a while before adding a third and feeling Father Copeland stretch and writhe beneath him. The priest tried get up, but Oscar tangled his free hand into his mane of blond and pushed his face into the pew.

"Oscar! Oscar let me the fuck up you idiot!" Adam tried harder but found his face bounced again off the pew, and when he tried to buck his hips to shake Oscar away, a burst of pleasure shot through his body and he groaned raggedly, biting into the cushion and not caring how disgusting it tasted. "More!" Father Copeland growled, bucking his hips harder trying to get the same spot again—when he hit it again his cry filled the sanctuary. "Rey, oh fuck Rey, Father Copeland wants your cock so bad…fuck me, now—I wannit inside!"

Oscars fingers left him and and he spit on them for lube and rubbed up his cock. Adam wiggled his ass impatiently, grinding his own cock against the side of the bench and screaming like a damn virgin. Oscar was afraid if Father Copeland kept up that grunting and yelling that he was just going to cum right into his hand. Hurrying as much as he could, Oscar rubbed his cock up against Father Copelands entrance and slipped the head inside. They both cried out, Adam at the pressure of Oscars length gaining entrance, and Oscar at the tightness of Adams muscles closing around him.

Oscar held Father Copelands hips and pulled them back as he pushed in until he was buried to the hilt. _Oh fuck he is so damn tight, my slutty little priest is so fucking tight…ah!_

"Oscar please, please go slow I'm not used to…o-oh I've never been fu-fucked, fuck!" Adam cried as Oscar moved inside of him slowly, angling so he was brushing against that spot again. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it had registered to Oscar—from Adams reactions—that this was his first time ever bottoming. The realization that came over him, only made the whole fantasy more realistic and better. He felt so wicked, so naughty, so sinful taking his priest like this…but if felt so, so good.

As Adam got more used to Oscar being inside of him the paced quickened, soon Oscar was driving again and again into the amazing spot and Father Copeland wanted it so bad he was pushing back to meet Oscars thrusts when he pulled half out, and rocketed back in again, as deep as he could go.

Adam gripped the cushion and came hard against the side of the pew coating the wood with a flow of semen, and just shortly after Oscar came deep inside and filled Father Copeland with his warm, wet, essence.

Oscar fell backwards, crashing onto the floor, the remains of the broken old hymnal he'd cracked against Adams ass poked into his back. He grumbled and moved it out of the way. Adam slowly straightened himself up, trembling from pleasure and shock of getting taken that way for the very first time. He rolled over and slumped onto the dirty pew, his big feet hanging over the edge. All he could do was groan.

"Amigo?"

Oscar spoke shakily from the floor.

"Si?" Adam responded, moving his hand down to his sore ass cheek and rubbing at it.

"I am for surely going to hell now…"

"Eh."

"Well, mi amigo that's all you can say, EH?"

Adam rolled his eyes.

"Do twelve Hail Mary's, Boo, and your forgiven."

Adam closed his eyes and started to drift off to sleep. A smile curved his lips when he heard Oscar chanting softly--_Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia…Hail Mary, full of grace. _


	6. Chapter 6

_**Wow, quick note THIS TURNED OUT SO LONG. Sorry, but Ted and Randy wanted to sneak in and they made it take forever to get down to business. All I can say is, don't like, don't read. But I really hope you read. This chapter is hot and hilarious. I promise you you'll laugh. THANK YOU for all the reviews, faves, alerts, etc. Here comes your dose of Smuttastic Cody Rhodes and…well…you'll see. :) OH I ALMOST FORGOT YES I GAVE CODY A TONGUE RING CAUSE CODY W/ TONGUE RING IS SEXY IN MY BOOK. HAVE FUN!  
**_

"Come on Codfish!" Ted prodded Cody in the ribs. The smaller man swatted at Ted's hand and scowled.

"Quit bugging me, I'm not going to tell you who I drew!"

"Aw, Cody don't pout." Ted smirked. "Then again, you do look kinda cute when you pout." He hung his arm around Cody's shoulders and drew him close as they walked towards the bar.

"Theodore, do you know how annoying you are?" Cody half-smiled at his best friend, unable to really stay mad at him.

"Yes." Ted answered and dragged Cody inside the bar.

The two of them sat up at the bar and Ted mostly talked while Cody sipped at some fruity, girly, drink that Ted had bought for him. It barely tasted like anything alcoholic and all the little decoration thingys kept poking him in the nose when he tried to take a drink.

"What's wrong Coddles?" Ted ran his hand gently up Cody's thigh and rested it there.

"Nothing." Cody muttered and raised his drink to his lips, he only succeed in stabbing himself in the eye with a mini-umbrella.

"Come here CM Punk lemme see." Ted joked, slapping Cody's hand away from his face. He turned Cody's head towards him and peered into his eye. "Ah ha…I see."

"See what?" Cody asked squirming and pouring tears down his face.

"An eye." Ted laughed and brought his palm back to rest where it was before up on Cody's thigh. "Here, before you hurt yourself for real. Try this." Ted slid his glass in front of Cody and the dark haired superstar eyed it cautiously.

"What is it?" He brought it up to his nose and sniffed which had Ted in a fit of laughter.

"Come on, you think I slipped you something?"

"It's been done before." Cody mumbled and took a small sip of the amber liquid. He coughed and grimaced as it burned down his throat.

"Who'd drug you up to have sex? All you gotta do is ask." Ted bit into his lip and Cody playfully slapped him in the back of the head. Cody ducked his head down and flashed Ted a grin.

"Shut up DiBiase."

"Why don't you make me." Ted leered, leaning closer to Cody. "Or I could make you close that pretty little mouth of yours…right around my big…"

Cody's mouth dropped open in mock-shock. He pressed his fingers to his lips and blinked at Ted with large, surprised eyes.

"Are you trying to proposition me!" Cody shrieked. Ted waggled his eyebrows and pulled Cody off his barstool.

"Maybe."

Cody grasped Teds shoulders and climbed into his lap, wriggling around to try and get comfortable, but mostly to annoy Ted. It was working.

"Ted!" Cody gasped.

"What princess?"

Cody leaned closer and whispered against Ted's ear as though he was a scared child whispering to his mother about the monster under the bed.

"Teddy, there's something…_big…_and _hard_…and pokey in your lap."

Ted shuddered at the wet whisper against his ear. He rolled his hips up and felt his arousal bump up against Cody's cute little ass.

"It is big, isn't it?" Ted captured Cody's lips and Rhodes responded eagerly, quickly opening his mouth to let Ted's tongue in. He swirled his own tongue with Teds and whimpered against Ted's lips. Ted's broke away panting and Cody continued to whine and nip at his lips. Ted wrapped his arms around Cody's waist and sank his hands into Cody's back pockets of his jeans. He'd seen Cody messing with the slip of paper earlier and had noticed him shove it into his back pocket.

"Ha!" Ted cried and dumped Cody on his ass. Cody looked up at him from his seated position on the floor, confused, until he saw the small square of crumpled paper in Ted's fingers.

"You asshole!" Cody shouted and launched himself at Ted.

"Hey, down boy!" Ted gently pushed Cody back with his palm against his chest and obediently—though with a slight scowl—Cody climbed back onto his barstool and sat there with his arms crossed over his chest and the worlds biggest pout on his face. Ted started to laugh so hard a tear leaked down his cheek.

"_You_ drew Batista?" Ted laughed harder. "I'd love to see you trying to take on The Animal in bed. Ted reached for the drink he'd given Cody but Cody pulled it away and sipped at it, flicking his tongue at the rim of the glass.

"I've had sex with Dave before." Cody defended still trying to look angry at Ted, but all Ted saw was a pretty pout, those big eyes, and that little nose stud winking in the low light.

"Come on…" Ted's hand found its favorite place again—Cody's thigh. "What you mean is Dave had sex with you." Ted corrected chuckling when Cody rolled his eyes like a drama queen.

"Whatever, same thing."

"Right…keep telling yourself that Codfish."

"Don't call me Codfish." Cody watched Ted's hand creep further up his leg but he did nothing to stop it. He turned back to the glass in his hand and took a big gulp of it and nearly coughed it all out all over the bar before forcing it down his throat.

"Gimme that whisky." Ted pried the strong stuff away from Cody and pushed the tropical looking thing back to him. "You better stick with that shit."

"You're bossy." Cody grumped.

"You like it." Ted shot back swallowing what was left of his whisky. He sat the empty glass back on the bar and ordered another. "How are you gonna be Daves 'Secret Sexer'?" Ted made finger quotes around the two words.

"I…I dunno." Cody slouched over the bar and ran his finger slowly around the rim of his drink.

"Look, why don't I trade you." Ted shifted on his stool and pulled out his wallet. "Come here."

Cody slipped off his stool crawled back into Ted's lap. Ted pulled a folded Post-It from his wallet and slipped it in Cody's back pocket and replaced the Batista slip in his own wallet. Cody repaid him with a kiss that made his head spin and he reached between his legs and stroked Teds stiffening member through his jeans.

"Thanks Teddy." Cody gasped when he broke the kiss. He gave Ted a squeeze that made him moan, then slid out of his lap with a taunting sparkle in his eyes. "I'm gonna go dance." Cody backed away from Ted as Ted called after him, but before Ted could get up and drag him back Cody disappeared into the crowd of gyrating bodies, grinning to himself. He could barely hear Ted shouting about what a slutty little tease he was.

"Hey." A low, familiar, voice tickled against Cody's ear and arms wrapped around his waist drawing him into a body that he knew just as well as the voice. Cody wiggled around so he was facing the person.

"Randy."

"Dance for me." Randy leered, viper-like at Cody and pulled him even closer. Cody could feel the sizeable, and seemingly ever-present, bulge in Randy's jeans. "Dance for me." Randy repeated, this time his voice harsher.

Cody hung his arms around Randy's shoulders and danced against him, moving his hips and grinding up and down like Randy had the sudden honor of becoming Cody's personal strip pole. Their groins collided together, the friction intense and hot. Randy grabbed Cody's hips and drove him forward harder. Cody wrapped one of his sleek, pretty legs around Randy's leg. The viper hiked it up higher, so Cody's thigh was against his hip, and he moved his hand slowly on the underside of Cody's leg until he was feeling up that hot ass of his.

"I want it." Randy growled and grabbed a handful of Cody's ass that made the younger man yelp. Cody pressed closer to Randy and nibbled at his neck, panting, enjoying his roaming hands. He groaned against Randy's ear when the vipers hand forced its way between his ass cheeks and drove the jean material up. Cody writhed and wiggled against the feel of Randy's fingers prodding at his entrance through his jeans.

"Please Randy, please!" Cody moaned, his lips trailing hot, wet, kisses up and down Randy's throbbing pulse. Randy grabbed Cody's wrist and dragged him to the men's restroom. He locked the door and it left he and Cody alone in the small room. When Randy turned around, Cody was already on his knees, his mouth open as he lulled his tongue out and ran the piercing over his swollen lips.

"As pretty as that mouth of yours is, that's not what I want right now." Randy pulled Cody up by his arm pits and turned him around and bent him over the sink. Cody poked his ass out inviting. "Oh fuck Cody, you're such a little whore." Randy panted and pressed up against Cody as he undid the younger mans belt and tossed it aside.

"Come on Randall, hurry up." Cody whined and wiggled against Randy causing the viper to swear and pant harder, slightly moaning. With a quick yank Cody's pants were around his ankles.

"Look at that ass." Randy panted. He sank a finger inside and growled in pleasure when Cody tightened his muscles around it. "Fuck, I can't take this." Randy added another finger and moved them against Cody's tightened muscles as he used his free hand to undo his pants and release his aching length. Once that was out he withdrew his fingers which cause Cody whine at him and beg him to hurry. Randy spit into his hand and pumped himself a couple times before guiding his head in, then he held Cody's hips still and thrust his thick hardness in. "Mhm, so fucking good Cody!"

Randy started up a quick pace and hammered Cody into the sink before he came hard, thrusting Cody forward so violently he hit his head on the dingy, cracked, mirror that was over the sink. Outside someone was banging on the door and demanding entrance.

"Just a fucking minute!" Randy growled, trying to catch his breath. He pulled out and gathered his pants up from his ankles and quickly did them up.

"Randy, Randy please get me off…please touch me, get me off Randy please!"

"Someone's at the door." Randy headed towards the door, ignoring Cody. The younger man quickly straightened up and pulled his jeans ups, reluctantly zipping them against his still aching member. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he tried to palm them away. He didn't want whoever was coming in to see him crying. He turn the water on and splashed some on his face, hoping it would help to calm him down since Randy had no intensions of relieving him.

Cody looked up to see Taker come in. The big man passed Cody and went to one of the urinals. Cody splashed a little more cold water on his face and grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at it. Mark came over to the sink next to Cody's and started to wash his hands as he watched Cody in the mirror.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Mark quirked an eyebrow.

"Fine." Cody said quietly patting a few last beads of water from his lips. Mark watched quietly from the corner of his eye. The kid looked upset, but it wasn't his place to say anything. He'd see Randy leave on his way in and what with the door being locked he put two and two together and deduced that Randy had go a piece of Cody Rhodes who was quite the popular little item. Judging by Cody's demeanor, something hadn't really played out right, but that was his own fault in Mark's eyes for being easy and following nearly anyone to their bed. It seemed to Mark that Cody was just a younger, less colorful Jeff Hardy—the two of them were passed around among many of the superstars like a cold in a classroom—it was as though those two were trying to out-slut each other.

But…the kid was cute…just young and stupid. Mark sighed. He needed to quit thinking so much. He dried his hands and tossed the paper towel at the trash can. When he bent down to pick it up he noticed a piece of yellow paper on the floor.

"Hey kid, did ya drop this?" Mark held up the small, folded square.

"Oh, probably. It's for that damn game Addy made up." Cody took the paper from Mark. "I had Batista but Ted stole it and traded me. I don't even know who I have now." Cody sniffled, still upset about how both Ted and Randy had used him for their own gain. "He probably got someone shitty like Dol--" Cody stopped in mid word. His face drained pale when he read the name on the paper. "I'm going to kill Teddy DiBiase." Cody shrieked, slapping his palm to his forehead. Mark laughed.

"Who'd he stick you with if you don't mind me askin?"

Cody swayed backwards, overwhelmed just thinking of having to be with this person and fulfill the request they had written next to there name. There was no way in hell…

"Whoah!" Mark caught Cody under the arms and steadied him. "Hell kid, you sure yer okay?"

Cody leaned into Mark's arms and chest, loving the feel of his strength, his body against his. He stayed there for a minute against Mark before straightening up and shoving the paper back into his pocket.

"I um, think I uh…just drank too much." Cody lied. "I'm going to head back to the hotel."

"You ain't drivin' like that boy." Mark said sternly.

"I'll walk." Cody headed to the door but was pulled back by Marks' strong grip on his arm.

"Kid, you go walkin' around at two in the morning liquored up and pretty like that, yer askin' for trouble. Let me walk you back."

Cody let Mark lead him through the sea of people still flooding the dance floor then out of the bar. Once they were outside Cody shivered, pretending to be cold. Mark gave up his hoody and Cody pulled it over his head. It was warm and smelled good, like Marks cologne, and it was three sizes too big on the small kid. Cody burrowed his hands into the pouch on the front and leaned into Mark, melting into his side, a smile curving his lips when Mark held onto him protectively with those amazing tattooed arms.

Once they got back to the hotel Cody clinged onto Mark in the elevator.

"Taker…can…can I stay with you tonight?" Cody asked quietly, his face darkening red. "I—I'd kinda like to get some sleep tonight instead of having people banging on my door at all hours."

Mark chewed on his lip. If he took Cody back to his room he knew what kind of reputation that would give him…although he doubted anyone in the locker room would have the balls to say anything to him to his face. He glanced down at Cody and the kid pouted at him. He seemed impossibly cute and pretty.

"Alright, I suppose it won't hurt." Mark wrapped his arm around Cody and led him out of the elevator.

They got to Marks room and Cody sat on the bed rubbing his hands nervously on his jeans while Mark was in the bathroom getting ready for bed.

Mark soon came out and climbed into bed in sweat pants and a Harley t-shirt. Cody pulled his knees up and sat on the bed watching Mark until the big man cracked open an eye.

"You always spy on people while they sleep?"

"N-no…" Cody took a deep breath, hoping it would calm his rattling nerves. He crawled next to Mark so he was spooning him and breathed on his neck, nipped at his ear.

"Kid, what're you doin?" Mark nudged Cody away but the kid climbed on top and straddled his waist, the very moment he did, he looked scared to death, like Mark was going to sit up Undertaker style and choke slam him through the mattress.

"I-I'm…um…" Cody cautiously leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mark, urging his tongue inside, and scraping the ring against Marks teeth. Mark easily rolled Cody off and took his face in those big, strong, hands and held it firmly, but not rough.

"Listen kid, we're going to go to sleep. That's all."

"But, Mark!" Cody whined.

"No." Mark growled and rolled over into his pillow.

"Ted gave me your Post-It." Cody blurted out.

Mark was silent for a minute, then rolled over to face Cody. His piercing, emerald gaze focused intently on the young man, before he burst out laughing.

"Never mind about it kid. Just go to sleep. It's only a stupid game."

Mark felt Cody climbing on top of him again and rolled onto his back so Cody was seated on his waist.

"You don't think I can do it." Cody pouted and leaned forward, laying flush against Mark's chest. He burrowed into his neck and nibbled and kissed, he flicked his tongue out and ran the little silver ball up and down Mark's pulse. "You taste good." Cody breathed out.

"Rhodes…" Mark growled.

"Mark, be quiet." Cody demanded, his lips nearly touching Marks. The flash in Marks eyes made Cody stop before kissing him and he stuttered. "I-I mean…be quiet Mark…please?"

The big man laughed and snagged Cody's lips with his, sliding his tongue inside, and tying to push out the thought of just who and what all had been in the kids mouth. Cody dove his tongue deeper, mewling against Marks lips and rocking his hips gently. Mark broke the kiss, his head rolled back against his pillow, and he was laughing again. Cody sat up on his waist and crossed his arms indignantly over his chest.

"What is so fucking funny!"

"Cody, I'm sorry kid. It's just, I-I've never been a bottom before and that's what I wanted for that damn game and I--" Mark bit his lips to try and quell the laughter that was sending tears down his face. "I just can't see this happening."

"I can top!" Cody pouted.

"Fine, when have you topped?" Mark raised his eyebrows, waiting for a reply, knowing already that Cody had never topped in his life.

"Fine…but you've never been a bottom either."

"Nope."

"Show me how to top then. Show me how the best does it." Cody grinned and bit at the tip of his finger.

"I uh, doubt you need me to show you that." Mark rolled them both over anyway, so Cody was laying on the mattress and Mark was kneeling over him.

"What are you saying about me Taker?" Cody's eyes flashed with flirtatious naughtiness. Mark just shook his head.

"Yer a good, sweet kid. Why do think you have to be everyone's sex toy?"

"I like it." Cody wrapped his arms around Mark's neck and drew him closer. Mark kissed his lips, chin, neck, then pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it over his shoulder.

"No ya don't. You were upset earlier when Randy left. You have to get tired of being in a different bed every night."

Cody went quiet and twined his fingers in Mark's auburn locks. He wrapped his pretty legs around Marks' waist and let him kiss and lick down to his waist line, where that amazing tongue delved under the waist band. Cody swallowed hard and closed his eyes, tears stinging behind them.

"Just fuck me." He said shakily.

"Why?"

"Because, just do it!" Cody bit out harshly.

"Yer weak." Mark growled.

"I am not!"

Mark tugged down Codys pants and sent them flying somewhere.

"Pussy."

"I am not!" Cody repeated, louder this time, a yell.

"Do something then, lil' girl." Mark ran his hand up Cody's thigh and sank a finger inside. Cody moved against it, one hand tangled in Marks hair, the other grasped his shoulder.

"Mmm, feels so good." Cody sighed.

"Because Cody Rhodes, yer a fuckin' pussy!"

"I am not!" Cody shouted. He wiggled away from Mark tossed a pillow at him, angry tears streaming down his face. "Get back down there." Cody demanded. Mark tried not to smirk, and rolled onto his back.

"So, quit yer talkin' princess and show me!"

Cody crashed his lips to Mark, tearing both their mouths to shreds. His tongue invaded roughly, his teeth bit, his nails scratched into the soft, pale, skin of Mark's chest and raked over his nipples causing him to groan softly. Cody pulled his mouth away, panting, licking at the blood that trickled from a split in his lip. He moved up and sat on Mark's chest, his erection poking the big man in the chin. His resolve started to waver.

"Whaddaya want?" Mark asked, flicking his tongue at the tip of Cody's cock. The kid jerked back in what seemed like horror. Mark almost dissolved into a laughing fit again, but managed to control it. "What, yer such a pussy."

"Quit saying that!"

"Heh, try to make me lil' girl." Mark taunted. Cody seemed to waver between taking Mark up on his threat, and being to terrified to do so. "I know what I'd do to you, to shut that pretty mouth of yers up." Mark went on, taunting the kid. "I'd shove my cock down yer throat, you'd like that wouldn't ya?"

Cody swallowed hard, and nodded.

"Too bad." Mark replied, to which Cody glared. "Quit being such a fucking lil' girl!"

"I am not a girl!" Cody grabbed Mark's jaw and opened his mouth, then, reluctantly at first, slid his cock in. _What the fuck am I doing…_ Cody started to tremble in fear. No one does to The Undertake what Cody was currently doing. He tensed and started to pull out. Mark could call him a girl and a pussy all he wanted, it was only the real truth, it was just how things were. Mark gripped Cody's hips before he could get all the way out, and pulled him back in, deeper, and sucked. "Oooh…oh Mark…" Cody mewled.

The sensation felt so wonderful, so fucking good, no one else ever did this for him. He was always the one with a mouthful, making his partner feel this wonderful. Cody was soon caught up in the moment and drifted off into the pleasure that tingled through his body like electricity. He moved his hips back and forth, slowly at first, needing more. Mark sucked hard, and Cody moaned louder, picking up the pace of his thrusts into Marks' hot, wet, mouth.

"So good…" Cody panted. "Harder, harder please oh so good!"

Mark pushed against Cody's hips, and taking the hint, Cody reluctantly pulled out of his mouth, his hardness throbbing and aching. For the second time tonight he was at the verge of release and left just hanging there in frustration.

"Mark please…"

"Stop yer whining. Get off…between my legs." Mark instructed and Cody reluctantly got off of Marks chest and slid between his legs. Mark propped his long legs up on Codys shoulders. "Now, you wanna get off, get off." Mark growled. "Come on."

Cody stared at Mark in disbelief.

"Come on pussy, I ain't gonna wait for you all night."

Cody reached between Mark's legs and stroked his impressive length, slowly at first. Mark sighed happily and leaned back against the pillows, savoring Cody's skilled hands on his hot, rock-hard member. Once again, trying to not focus on where those hands might have been. Pretty soon Mark couldn't think about that, the kid was so good, nothing else could break through the intense waves of pleasure washing over Mark. He arched up into Cody's hand, meeting each stroke, his breath coming harder and harder.

"Come on lil' girl, fuck me…" Mark growled.

Cody kept pumping Mark with one hand and spit into his other, nervously ghosting his fingertips near Marks entrance. He felt entirely wrong, his nerves buzzing louder and louder, he bit back a whine.

"I can't!"

"I swear Runnels, if you don't fuckin' do this, I will beat you into a bloody mass of quivering flesh and you know I don't make idle threats."

Cody closed his eyes and drew up all his courage, and slid his fingertip inside, then up to his second knuckle, then up to the third.

"Mark--"

"Shut up…it feels good." Mark arched up into Cody's other hand as it went quicker. "More."

Cody chewed his lips to keep from refusing. Trembling he slid another finger in, fearing for his soul when Mark grunted and grimaced at the stretching.

"Do-do you…want me to stop?" Cody barely whispered, and he winced when Mark practically yelled at him.

"Yeah, stop talking!"

Cody moved his fingers around for a while feeling the tight entrance stretch as Mark started to relax. He slid his fingers out and guided his cock to the forbidden entrance…then just stopped. Mark wiggled against him, feeling the head poking at his ass. He was about to just go insane, and lose it, and come into Cody's hand, then kill the poor kid for being such a damn pussy. He wondered vaguely if Cody really was that scared to fuck him, or if he was just being an impossible little tease. Mark growled deep in his throat. Cody sealed his eyes tightly closed and counted in his head _one…two…two and…a half…three._

When it was over, Cody flopped onto Mark chest and they both lay there, wordless, just breathing hard, dizzy from their orgasms. Mark idly stroked Cody's sweat soaked hair. The moments passed while they got their bearings back, and Cody rolled off of Mark and curled up in his arm.

"Di-did that…really…did I just…" Cody stuttered in shock, and he and Mark both burst out laughing hysterically.

"Yup." Mark managed to say between his belly-aching laughter.

"No one will ever believe it!" Cody snorted, burying his face into Mark's shoulder. "_I _can't believe it."

Mark wiped tears from his eyes, and tried to get a handle on his side-splitting laughter. _I just got deflowered by Cody Rhodes. _No, Mark really couldn't stop laughing.


	7. Chapter 7

**I hope the dialogue doesn't ruin this chapter. Lol, a lisp and an accent all in on chapter. *facepalm* Thank guys for continued reviews. Glad you're enjoying these. **

"Kidnap." The word was spoken in a thick, Russian, accent. The big man watched from the shadows, a smirk hanging his lips half up, half down as he targeted the young blond. He waited until the kid was bent over the trunk of his rental car, tossing his duffle into it, before stepping out of the shadows and making his way stealthily, quickly, quietly over to the young man. He drew the cloth out and palmed it and pressed his big hand over the blonds mouth and nose, his other arm wrapped around his waist, easily keeping him secure as he tried to struggle momentarily, then slumped. He tossed the rag with chloroform aside and dragged the blond into the back seat of his car, rummaged through his pockets until he found the keys, and got in the car and drove.

When Jack woke up he felt dizzy, his head dull. He groaned and tried to sit up but couldn't: his wrists and ankles were bound to something. He tugged harder and tried to scream but he was gagged so he couldn't. The blindfold over his eyes prevented him from seeing except for a tiny sliver of light if he looked down through the bottom where it wasn't quite tight enough against his face.

"Do not try strugkle, strugkle vill not help you." The voice was deep, hard, cold, and thickly accented. Jack ignored the warning and pulled against his restraints, his wrists burning against the metal cuffs. If he would have calmed down and got his head straight, he would have recognized the voice, but he was panicking too much, his heart hammering at his chest wildly.

"Jack Svagker—you have information. You're terrorist agkainst my country."

_What! _Jack shrieked in his mind. Fear traced up and down his spine, through every nerve in his body, he tugged harder feeling the skin of his wrists start to shred.

The Russian paced, slowly, watching with that same stone expression on his face as Jack writhed and struggled.

"If cooperate with question, reduce your punishment."

Jack whined against the gag and shivered when an unseen hand ghosted over his face and rested on his mouth. The hand tore the gag away roughly and Jack coughed.

"Where--"

"Silence!" One of those ghost hands cracked across Jacks face, sending his head snapping to the side. "You speak ven ask question. Not ask question, do not speak."

Jack shivered and shut his mouth tight, not even daring to move his head or wiggle against the restraints. He just stayed still as his trembling body would let him and listened to his own terrified breathing crashing hard in his ears and the rhythmic, footfalls of the man in the room pacing. The adrenaline rush of being captured, that sonorous, exotic, voice, and the hand crashing against his face had all made him terrified—yet oddly excited and aroused.

"Tell me, who is fundink operation?" The thickly accented voice boomed out against Jack's ear, causing him to shudder…partially from fear, partially from arousal.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!" Jack spit out. "I'm not a terroritht, I-I I'm a wrethler for WWE I don't know anything about terrorithm!"

"Is not vat source tellink me. Our agents have viretap, have evidence agkainst you. Is only matter of time before throw you to Siberia. If cooperate, answer question, can make punishment less severe."

"I-I don't know!" Jack pleaded, his voice filling with tears.

"Very vell…there are process to extrag information from unvillink."

Jack felt the hot breath against his ear and down his neck and a breathy moan left his lips. Teeth nipped at his neck, the flick of a tongue, a growl. Hands twisted his t-shirt and he heard the 'zzzp' sound of fabric tearing and felt the clothing pull away from his body, his chest exposed, as those foreign fingers trailed over it. The bed creaked and Jack felt a weight shifting and coming to rest on his waist. He was embarrassed when his beginning erection prodded his abductor in the thigh.

"Tell me vhat vas intended target for bombink. You planned attack on Russian city."

"I didn't, I thwear!" Jack sniffled. The big hands moved over his body, setting his nerve endings ablaze. _How the hell can you be horny at a time like this?_ Jack berated himself internally but it didn't help. He could feel the lips of his captor nearly touching his. That warm, wet, breath lingered against his mouth. The lips pressed to his and he eagerly kissed them—and was bitten hard enough that he yelped and tried to tug his lower lip free, tearing it, and sending blood drizzling down his chin.

"You think this is game? Is no game. Is not playink games." The Russian scraped his nails down Jack's sides causing him to writhe ticklishly and moan in excitement. Despite fearing for his safety, Jack couldn't help his arousal. In fact, the fear was only making it more intense. _You're going to die with your dick up, asshole. _Jack thought to himself as those fingers latched on to the waist band of his jeans and started to tug. Jack yanked his legs but his ankles were caught up in the restraints. All he managed to do was buck and thrash like a wild animal as his jeans and underwear were pulled down around his knees.

"Impressif."

"Can-can you jutht ple-pleathe let me go?" Jack gasped, still tugging against the bonds on his angles, despite knowing it was useless.

"Can not let you go." The Russian crawled up his body, and even though Jack couldn't see it, he could somehow imagine him smirking. "You don't vant to let you go…I have more question."

Jack bucked harder, thrusting his hips, anything to get away, but mainly it was just getting him more and more aroused, almost dizzy as his shoulders, wrists, and ankles ached from the strain. A closed fist connected to his jaw and made him stop.

"Be still, or I punish more." The Russian ran his hands up Jack's thighs making him groan. "Tell me about orkanization. Vat terrorist kroup involve with. We have link to certain orkanization runt by--"

"I'm not a fucking terroritht, I don't know! You've got the wrong perthon!"

His captor grabbed handfuls of his thighs and squeezed, digging his nails in, making Jack scream out in pain and nearly dislocate his shoulder as he thrashed against the cuffs around his wrists and ankles. After a few intense moments, the gripping nails released and Jack whined pitifully at the pain—the exciting pain—and then there was something warm, a tongue, softly licking the wounds.

"Tell me vhat you knowink about terrorist operation. You haf accomplice."

Jack struggled for breath as the poking, lulling, tongue drifted high and higher on his thigh until he could feel it perilously close to his erection which was hard and aching.

"I…I've told you all I know…I don't know a-anything—aaah ow, ow!" Jack cried out when teeth sank into his groin muscle. He arched up automatically and stars swam before his eyes at the intense pain. The teeth tore away roughly and hot tears spilled down Jacks face.

"You lyink! You are lyink to Russian authorities!"

"I'm not!" Jack wailed.

"Silence!"

Jack bit his lips. The room was quiet but for his soft sobbing. A hand grasped his cock and stroked.

"Wha…what?" Jack started confused, but a fist like a sledge hammer caught his cheek and it exploded with pain. Jack arched up into the hand, thrust into it. "Please, harder…" Jack panted. His inner mind screamed at him _what the fuck are you doing you've lost your mind! Think with the right head dumbass!_ He started to say something to his captor, to demand him to stop touching, but the hand around his shaft tightened and sped up pace, and a hot breath ghosted over his head. The thought of demanding a stop to the situation was edged out of Jacks mind as another breath whispered over his head causing every nerve in his body to hop and tingle into overdrive. The only thin coming out of his mouth were twisted, strangled, moans.

Just as he was at his breaking point, ready to come all over this assholes fist, something was slipped over his throbbing length, slid to the base, and tightened, preventing him from release. It dawned on him, as that low, husky, voice chuckled at him, that it was a cock ring.

"If you vant orkasm, must answer question."

"Oh, oh fuck. Pleathe, pleathe jutht—jutht let me go!" Jack begged.

"Vhat orkanization?" The fist connected with his face again sending him reeling and tasting blood in his mouth. He just said the first thing that came to mind.

"Uh, I'm with…the…WWE." Jack managed to say while swallowing down the taste of his blood.

"Douple-u douple-u ee? Vhat is this?"

A finger ran up and down the underside of Jack's straining cock, tormenting him.

"World Wreth—um, World…Wide…Explothiveth?"

"Vorld Vide Explosif. Who is leader of Vorld Vide Explosif?"

"Please, please just let me…ah…off…I mean let me go…harder, please!"

"Who!" The one word was shouted so loud it made Jacks head throb. He waited just a moment too long to answer, the question was shouted again, and to punctuate a finger was thrust inside. Jack screamed. "Answer or I take you and I holt your headt under vater unteel you nearink dead, then I pull you up, and I do it agkain until I get answer. I am not playink games."

"Mr. McMahon, Vince, Vince-fucking-McMahon!" Jack sobbed out as the finger explored him harshly, brushing against his prostate, and making that ring unbearably tight around his painful cock. His back ached from arching again and again to find no release.

"Very goot." Another finger followed by a long silence. "Do you want me let you go now?"

Jack didn't answer for a moment, too much in a horny stupor, writhing in sticky sweat, to notice that his captor was offering him freedom. Jack felt a hand at one of his ankles and the clink of metal and his leg was let loose. The muscles ached and he moved it slowly while rolling his hips to meet the thrust of the fingers that had invaded him. The second ankle was freed up.

"Do you know I like my job very much, yah?" The Russian voice panted out, adding a third finger. "Ah, I—I like it very much. I like to tie up in bondage." The man pulled his fingers out and Jack could hear the sound he recognized as a belt buckle, hands against fabric, and a zipper.

"What, what are you--" Jacks words were cut short when something more than fingers intruded his space. He cried out in pain as the thick, unprepared, erection was pushed in. His captor grunted and moaned when Jack instinctively tightened his muscles around the invasion.

"Very goot." The Russian growled and tried to wiggle in further. Tears leaked from Jacks eyes and he concentrated on trying to relax his muscles, obviously his captor was intent on having him. He as terrified, vaguely aware that he was possibly being raped, but at the same time he wanted this so bad. His face burned red with shame as he relaxed his muscles and rolled his hips helping to take the length further inside. With a last, fierce, jerk forward it was all in deep and stretching him to near breaking point. Jack was shaking with fear and excitement. He wanted to come so badly he thought he might pass out from the intensity.

The Russian started to move, slowly at fist, but quickly gained pace, mimicking the thrust of his hips with the pumping of his fist around Jack's length. Both of them panted, filling the room with animalistic growls and breathing sounds.

"Say my name Jack Svagker." The Russian groaned out as he felt his climax approaching.

"Oh, oh fuck—pleathe, I don't know your name—oh, harder pleathe fuck me harder!"

His captor was happy to fulfill his shouted request driving into him so hard and so deep Jack could swear he could feel that big heavy cock banging up against his rib cage.

"My name, is Vladimir."

"Vladimir!" Jack cried out, in his state of unprecedented arousal and maddening need to come, he was in no state to realize who owned that name, or to even realize he'd heard the name and shouted it back at the top of his lungs. "Vladimir!"

"Vladimir Kozlov, say it!" His captor slid the cock ring off and Jack screamed so hard he knew he wouldn't be speaking in the morning, his throat tore to shreds, as the name exploded out of his mouth.

"VLADIMIR KOZLOV!"

Both of them came at once. Vladimir filled Jack with his hot, sticky, seed and Jack came violently covering the Russians fist and drenching his own stomach and chest. Jack slammed his head back against the pillows, rolling it around in ecstasy, trying to make his burning lungs take in air at a reasonable pace. The Russian pulled out and he felt the weight on the bed shift. A wet hand was at his wrist and soon freed it. His arm fell from its confines and just flopped onto the bed as if dead. The second arm fell over his chest.

He heard the crumple of paper and felt a touch of something feather-light hitting his chest. The sound of footfalls sounded in the room, followed by a zipper, a click, and the slam of the door. Jack laid there a few more minutes, shaking all over, struggling to breathe. When he'd finally got his breath and his nerve, he willed his painful arms and hands to move and slide the blindfold away from his eyes. He blinked and looked around the room…it was just a hotel room. He fumbled at his chest, trying to see what had landed there, and found a piece of paper. He opened with trembling fingers and read in his own handwriting: Jack Swagger: Kidnapping. He slapped his palm to his forehead and closed his eyes. He'd completely forgotten about that stupid game!

Jack slowly drifted off to sleep, an amused smile on his face, a blissful, foggy, cloud descending down over him. All in all, it had been the most amazing sex he'd ever had…and better yet, the Russians really weren't after him.

**I hope I didn't kill you all with lisp/accent...but I couldn't just write Koz normal, it just didn't sound right. Plus, his Russian voice is sexy. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Again, I gave Cody a tongue ring, because I like him with one. That's all!**_

Jeff sauntered out of the bathroom, and twirled for Matt.

"So, how do I look big brother?" Jeff struck a girly little pose, and his ear fell off. Matt laughed. "Damn it…" Jeff muttered. He bent to pick up the plastic accessory and Matt groaned. The short little green tunic rode up revealing Jeff's pretty, ivory, thighs and that amazing little ass laid bare with only a thong. Matt bounded over and slid his hands under the tunic as Jeff straightened. Matt found the flimsy straps to Jeff's thong, and hooked a finger under one side. He pulled the strap back, like a slingshot, and before Jeff could protest let it go. Jeff shrieked as it snapped back, stinging him, and breaking. He wheeled around and stood there glaring at Matt, emerald eyes sparkling, looking impossibly cute and sexy in the Link costume he was wearing. The abused thong slid down Jeff's leg and hung from the top of his boot.

"Matt, you broke it." The younger man pouted as he shook his leg to fling the broken thong away.

"Oops." Matt grinned, not the least bit sorry.

"Do something useful, and help me with this stupid plastic ear!" Jeff tossed the pointed thing at Matt and went over to his suitcase, searching for another thong to replace the busted one. Jeff rolled his eyes when he felt Matt press up behind him, an obvious excitement tenting his sweatpants, and nudging at Jeff's rear. Matt swept Jeff's blond hair streaked with electric pink away, and fixed the ear…then decided to play with it, his tongue, lips, and hot breath making Jeff squirm and shiver. "Matthew, stop it!" Jeff wiggled away. "This is not for you." He motioned at the outfit he was wearing, and stepped into his new thong.

"Cody's going to be a happy little whore tonight. I can't believe that was his Secret Sexer request." Matt chewed his lip, watching Jeff smooth out that sexy little tunic. It was unbelievable, how Jeff could make the most innocent of things look lusciously slutty.

"That's rude Matt." Jeff huffed. He sauntered over to his brother and stuffed the broken thong into the front of Matt's pants, his hands ghosting over the hard-on inside.

"Ooh, Jeff…" Matt bit into his lip and watched as Jeff gave him the 'talk-to-the-hand' motion and strutted towards the door.

"Bye Matty, have fun with that."

"Believe me Jeffrey, I will." Matt growled as the door slammed.

Jeff sauntered down to Cody's room and tapped on the door. He couldn't wait to see the look on Cody's face when he opened the door and saw the sexiest version of The Legends of Zelda's "Link" character that had ever been created.

The door was opened, and Cody started to say something, then just gawked.

"Hey there sexy, I hear there's some princess or some shit that needs saving?" Jeff stepped towards Cody, fisted his shirt collar in his hand, and pulled the astonished young man out into the hallway.

He grinned as Cody looked him over, his big, pretty, eyes darting here and there, clouding slowly with lust. Cody took in Jeff and what he was wearing: he was dressed as Link from The Legend of Zelda game, only he made the whole thing impossibly slutty. Hardy was decked out in a green tunic that looked more like a scandalous little mini-dress, it barely came down over his hips and ass, and instead of being loose and flowing it was pretty form fitting, synched at the waist with a brown belt. Underneath was a white mesh shirt that was sexier than anything Link had ever worn, Cody could see Jeff's colorful tattoo tracing up his arm and winking out through the mesh holes. Finishing the costume was a pair of simple brown boots that went to the knee and a little green, elf-looking hat, complete with prosthetic, pointed, elf ears that peeked out from Jeff's blond locks.

Jeff watched Cody visually molest him, enjoying every moment of it. He twirled around, letting him get a better view, and draped himself over Rhodes, who was still quiet. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but couldn't form the words. His hands twitched, and he wanted to touch, but he drew them quickly away.

"What's wrong Coddles?" Jeff pouted, leaning against Cody, pressing him to the wall. "Don't I make a sexy Link?" Jeff lulled his tongue out and slowly ran the metallic ball over his lower lip, grinding it against his lip ring.

"Fuck yes you're sexy, Link!" Cody gasped. He drew Jeff closer and wrapped a leg around him. His tongue flicked out of his mouth and licked Jeff's enjoying the wet taste and the clack of their rings together as they licked and tasted tongues and lips. Cody's hands danced up Jeff's legs, loving the way he could feel the muscles twitch. They ghosted slowly upwards, finding the hem of the short little tunic, and sliding underneath. They trembled up and over Jeff's hips, the fingertips brushing against the barely-there thong strap. Jeff's slid under Cody's Legacy shirt, feeling the outlines of his chest and abs.

Cody dragged Jeff over to the door, their lips still entwined in a feverish duel. Neither wanted to break away, the touching of their lips and battling of their tongues like a biological explosion sending twitches and tingles like lightening through every nerve. When they finally separated, their lips were puffy and swollen from the intensity, both were panting, already hot and wet with sweaty skin. Jeff leaned against Cody, pressing him to the door.

"Do I get to come in?" Jeff rasped, his eyes dancing with naughtiness, as his words took on a double meaning which didn't slip past Rhodes. Cody smirked.

"Yeah, in a minute." He added, turning to the door and sliding his keycard. Jeff used the opportunity to grasp Cody's hips and slither up and down Cody's legs and ass, as though he had became a stripper pole. "Damn it!" Cody hissed, writhing between Jeff and the door. "I-I can't get it to work!" He growled, slipping the card through the slot again. "We are so not doing this out here." Cody rolled his eyes and tried the card again.

"Hm…that's funny." Jeff answered, his chin on Cody's shoulder, his ticklish breath against Cody's ear. Jeff's hands found Cody's ass and felt it up, murmuring his approval. One of his hands slid further down between Cody's legs and to the front where he found the denim stretched tight with excitement. Jeff stroked the taught denim. "Seems like everythings working just fine." He added, grinning when Cody sighed happily and pushed against Jeff's hand.

"Always Jeffy!" Cody replied, turning his head to give the older man a flirty wink. He tried the card again, this time it worked. "Kay Jeff, give me ten minutes." Cody handed Jeff the card, and disappeared into the room.

Ten Minutes Later…

Jeff used Cody's card and got into the room. He glanced around, not seeing Cody at first. He whipped around when he heard a whimper, and saw Cody then. His lips twitched into a smile. This kid was definitely…unique. Jeff settled on that word. He sauntered over to Cody, looking him up and down. He looked fucking delicious.

The young Rhodes had somehow tied himself up to a bondage device that hooked to the door, his ankles and wrists were restrained in leather cuffs. Jeff wondered for a moment how the Cod had managed to get into that thing by himself, but, he shrugged that question away. Even as young as he was Cody was very experienced with the world of sex and so he could probably do a lot of interesting things…like look drop dead sexy in a Princess Zelda costume.

Jeff came closer and scanned his eyes again over Cody as he tugged one of his wrists, whining, causing the bonds to rattle a bit against the door. Cody was not just wearing a Zelda dress, but was even decked out in a blond wig, it looked like he'd snatched it from his brother, and a crown. He looked impossibly cute and naughty, pouting like that and whimpering.

"Looking good princess…" Jeff licked his lips and moved closer, running his hands up Cody's sides and making him wiggled. "Especially from this angle."

"Link!" Cody whined. "Save me…please?"

"Hm…I dunno, I kind of like you tied up like this." Jeff tugged on one of the wrist restraints, making it tighter. Cody pulled at it, the cuff biting into his skin.

"But you have to save me! Link, it's your job!"

"We'll see." Jeff gave the other wrist strap a pull, then the ankles. Cody's eyes widened prettily, and blinked at Jeff as he tightened each cuff.

"Maybe Link wants to be bad with you." Jeff leaned in and ran the ball of his tongue ring hot and wet up and down Cody's neck, along his throbbing pulse. The princess wiggled pleasantly uncomfortable against the tightened straps. When the cuffs bit into his wrists and ankles, Cody groaned, and the sound sent a shudder coursing through Jeff. "You don't sound like you _really_ want to be saved…"

"Please?" Cody whispered quietly, against Jeff's lips as they came ticklishly close to his. Cody flicked his tongue out against Jeff's lips and traced the wet seam. Soon their mouths were engaged again, in deep, hot kisses, chests pumping with excitement, soft moans shared between them, Jeff's erection rock hard against Cody's thigh as he moved against it.

Cody wanted so bad to wrap his fingers in Link's hair, to explore his body, to travel down wards and work magic on the smoldering length beneath Link's tunic. Cody pulled and thrashed, scraping ribbons of skin away from his wrists, and whimpering into Jeff's mouth as the blissful pain tingled up and down his nerves. His hands and feet began to feel numb and tingly, the toes and fingertips throbbing with lack of circulation. The sensations only made him harder, and Jeff's fierce kissing was stealing all his breath away, making his lungs ache and his head spin. He could feel Link's hands ghosting up and down his sides, the feather light touches making his muscles bunch and twitch. Jeff' hands inched further downwards, aware of the erection prodding at the skirt of Cody's Zelda dress. Jeff found the head, making a cute little peak in the fabric, and as his tongue slipped in and out of Cody's mouth he moved his fingertip slowly over the peak in a small circle, grinning into the deep throated kiss when he felt Cody's cock twitch. He swallowed up the whimpers and groans that tried to escape Cody's tasty, wet, mouth.

"Jeff—Link!" Cody gasped when Jeff finally freed his lips, and moved down to Cody's neck, nipping and biting and licking. All the while he kept up that annoying, agonizing, slow circular motion of his fingertip against Cody's head. Once in a while, he'd scrape his nail against the fabric that pulled tight against it. It made a soft scuffling noise, and caused Cody to trash again in his restraint, his hips arcing forward, his head flying back and cracking against the door as a stream of pleasured, slutty, sounds filled the room, and Cody whined and pleaded. "Fuck, oh don't tease—stop teasing please—Link!"

Jeff let go of Cody's neck, pleased with the dark hickeys he left behind. He licked at a trail of sweat that traced its way slowly down Cody's jaw line, the young man shivered beneath him, making even the door shudder.

"Princess Zelda…you wanna feel my lips somewhere else? Maybe…" Jeff circled his fingertip at the head of Cody's aching length. "Maybe on your sword?" Jeff giggled and played with his tongue ring, scraping it over his teeth.

"Please, please Link! Yeah, I want your mouth on my-my--"

Jeff started to pull up Zelda's skirt.

"I know all about swords Princess Z. Before I got into the hero business…I was in the carnival. I _swallowed_ swords. I can swallow 'em down real deep." Jeff growled, his hand brushing against Cody's bare hard-on under the dress. Jeff pulled his hand back with a start, and dropped his mouth open into a mock-surprised 'O'. "Ooh, princess…you're naughty!" Jeff exclaimed, grinning wide and naughty. "Or do you always free-ball it?"

Jeff's fingers danced over Cody's balls, to the base of his throbbing erection, and then slowly up the underneath, reaching the head and teasing it.

"Link!" Cody practically yelled, his voice dripping with lust. "Please!"

Jeff got to his knees and ducked under Cody's dress, the skirt falling down over his head, knocking one of those stupid ears askew again. Jeff wrapped his hand around Cody's cock and blew against the head.

"Stop teasing!" Cody whined, fisting his hands and banging them against the door, aggravating the already raw rings of flesh around his wrists.

"Tease?" Jeff's voice came muffled from under Cody's skirt. "Like this?" He flicked the tip of his tongue out against Cody's head and felt his cock jerk in need. He rolled the little silver ball of his tongue ring up and down Cody's shaft, each sound from Cody's lips and each desperate tug of his wrists and ankles made Jeff—and seemingly Cody too—harder and harder. Jeff kept scraping the metallic head of his tongue ring over Cody's tip until juicy pre-cum welled out and coated the piercing, making a thick, sticky, strand trail down Jeff's chin when he pulled away.

"It hurts…" Cody whined, trying to thrust his aching member towards Jeff's mouth.

"Don't worry, I'll make it feel better." Jeff closed his lips around the end of Cody's cock, sheathing it in wet warmth. He lulled his tongue around it, suckling and tasting the steady ooze that coated his tongue. He took Cody in inch by inch, purposefully slow, to keep up the teasing that was driving Cody insane. The velvet steel slid slowly into Jeff's mouth, and down his throat, filling it with pulsing heat. He kept his muscles relaxed, to keep from gagging, and took more in, grabbing Cody's hips and jerking them forward as much as the restraints would allow, to get the rest in. Jeff groaned against the feel of his full throat and mouth, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through Cody's body. It was exciting Jeff just as much, maybe he was just incredibly dirty, but having a thick, delicious, cock packing his throat always got him off. He hollowed his cheeks, making the suction tight as he could, and slowly pulled back, letting Cody's cock slide back out up to the head, then taking it back down again, and jerking his hips forward to get in the last bit, just like before. Jeff kept up that kind of rhythm, and Cody's cries of ecstasy filled the room.

Cody couldn't feel his hands or feet anymore, and didn't even realize if he was still shredding his skin apart or not. There was too much pleasure singing through his body, setting his nerves to buzzing and pulling tighter and tighter like strings on a guitar, being tuned to high, and ready to snap at any moment. Jeff let his cock go with a slippery smack of his lips, and wrapped his hand around it, going to jerk Cody the rest of the way, but he didn't get the chance. Cody's cock surged forwards and hit Jeff in the mouth, sending his teeth to rattling, and his climatic release came all over Jeff's face and the underneath of the skirt.

Jeff pushed the material over his head, and emerged from underneath. The sticky liquid dripped from his eyelashes, the end of his nose, coated his tiger-like beard, and trailed down his neck. He'd lost his Link hat somewhere under Cody's dress, and his hair had gotten into the mess, and was tangled and matted.

"Let me go!" Cody demanded hoarsely his breath coming in heavy pants. Jeff didn't even bother to wipe his face. He was still sitting on the ground, so he reached under the hem of the dress and found Cody's ankles, and released the straps. Cody sagged forward on his arms, his feet asleep and unfeeling, the forward fall jolting his shoulders. Next came one f the wrist cuffs. Pins and needles pricked through Cody's feet and hands as the blood flow slowly returned, but he completely ignored it. His eyes were glazed with lust as he watched Jeff's face glisten with his own essence. Cody fell on top of Jeff when the last cuff was undone, and immediately pinned his shoulders to the floor. He wrapped his fingers tight in Jeff's hair, pulling until Jeff responded with a few groans, and he greedily licked and kissed his own cum off of Jeff's face and neck, enjoying the taste of it mingling with Jeff's skin.

"Fuck princess—you're such a slut, you're so dirty!" Jeff gasped out, writhing beneath Cody-Zelda.

"So are you Link…you liked my cock in your pretty mouth didn't you?" Cody growled, and tossed away his wig, it was only getting in the way and getting golden strands stuck to Jeff's face. "I know, because I like that too." Cody finished Jeff's face and smeared his sticky lips to Jeff's, forcing his tongue inside, so they could share his seed together.

For a while they writhed together on the floor, Cody's ass grinding down into Jeff's stiffened, aching member. Finally Cody let him up, the pain and burn in his filleted wrists demanding it. Cody stumbled to his feet and Jeff got up to his. He reached around Cody's back and slid down the zipper to the dress, in their passion, it had already unzipped some on its own, the shoulders sagging down. Cody slithered out of the dress and let it pool at his feet. Jeff stood still and watched, taking in the sight of Cody's nude form, his fiery emerald gaze especially taking its time when he got to Cody's shapely, pretty legs. Cody strode the few steps over to Jeff, and undid his belt, and tossed it aside. He worked his hands up under the tunic and pulled it off over Jeff's head. That left him looking gorgeous in only the white mesh shirt and a hot pink thong that nearly matched the color of the bold streaks in his soft blond hair. The flimsy material of the strained undergarment seemed ready to give away to Jeff's protruding erection at any moment. Cody pushed Jeff back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, sending them both back into a frenzy of hands, lips, and tongues. Jeff wrapped his legs around Cody's waist and rocked against him, moaning. Cody's shaking fingers struggled with the mesh shirt before finally yanking it off over Jeff's head, sending the other plastic ear flying off. Next came the thong, which Cody took off with his teeth. He tossed that away too, and when he looked back, Jeff was panting, his pretty mouth open, one hand sliding up and down his own cock, the other slipped around his leg, his fingers playing at his own entrance. Cody felt dizzy.

"Fuck Jeff, that's fucking hot!" Cody watched transfixed for a few moments, then spread Jeff's legs. He ducked his head down, and pushed his tongue into Jeff's entrance, sliding in against his fingers as he probed himself. Jeff whined and mewled as Cody's tongue slithered inside of him. Cody's hand wrapped around Jeff's cock, and both of them pumped it together, Jeff's hips jutting forwards eagerly to meet the quick strokes.

Cody left Jeff's entrance wet and warm and continued the strokes on his cock, making them faster as Jeff's sped up his own movements.

"Jeff, I want you to fuck me hard and fast…do you wanna Link? You wanna make…princess Zelda…scream your name?"

"Fuck yes!" Jeff growled out.

"Cause Link, I want you to make me scream your name, until I can't scream it anymore!"

Jeff flipped Cody and spread his legs, hoisting them up on his shoulders.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll scream it I promise…" Jeff panted. He shoved two fingers into his mouth and quickly slicked them up and slipped them inside Cody, who groaned at the invasion, and moved against Jeff's fingers as he worked them. He did the same with two finger on his other hand, and slipped those inside two, working both sets of digits quickly, to stretch and ready Cody for him. He couldn't wait much longer.

"Kay princess, her I came…to save you…"

Jeff slid all the way in on the first thrust, filling Cody perfectly, the pressure of Jeff inside of him had him clawing at the sheets on the bed, and in response he tightened his muscles around Jeff's aching cock, making them both cry out in pleasure. Jeff started up the pace, just like Cody wanted, hard and fast, and very soon they both came powerfully. Jeff slid out, and curled up next to Cody, both of them feeling high. The only sounds in the room were their ragged breathing.

Finally, they both began to come down a little. Jeff swept his sweaty, drenched, hair out of his face.

"Cody?" He asked hoarsely, propping himself up a little on his elbows. "Do…do you want me to go now?"

There was a silence, and Cody slowly shifted his gaze to Jeff, his cheeks coloring a light blush.

"You…don't have to." Cody answered quietly. His heart sank a little. He knew this was just a silly game, it was only sex, but still part of him had hoped for Jeff to stay. Then again, why should this be any different for Cody? His partners always left him afterwards, or asked him to leave…there was no reason for Jeff to stay…as much as Cody wanted it. Before he could say anything more, Jeff draped his arm over Cody's chest, and pressed his nose against his shoulder, cuddling.

"Good, because I don't want to." Jeff sighed. He closed his eyes, and felt a content, dreamy, state start to take over.

Cody lay there staring at the ceiling, trailing his fingers through Jeff's hair, a genuine smile curving his lips and tears sitting in his eyes. For once, he wasn't crying because it hurt to be alone, for once, the afterglow was better than the sex.

_**Of course Cody had to sneak some angst in there, lol. Hope you liked it :)**_


	9. Chapter 9

"Shawn."

The blond whirled around, the voice calling his name familiar. He smiled, it was Cena. The young man had his hat in his hands, fiddling with it. He was smiling revealing those cute dimples and his cheeks were coloring pink. Shawn wondered what he had to be embarrassed about. Shawn was always so oblivious to those around him who had epic crushes on their Heartbreak Idol—which seemed to be just about everyone.

Shawn patted the kids arm, it was a thick, well muscled. Cenas' voice still failed to work. When Shawn had twirled around, it had stuck in his throat, the way his angelic blond hair whipped around his face and then settled over his shoulders like a golden waterfall, just had John at a loss for words. Then, the touch on his arm, it made him jump as though he'd been startled and a pulse of electricity seemed to radiate from his forearm, and all throughout his body. Shawn blinked at him, those cobalt eyes piercing.

"John?" He asked, his voice a bit rough around the edges as always, something that John secretly found sexy. That voice had often came to him in dreams. He felt his face get hotter. "You okay Champ?" Shawn grinned.

"Ah…yeah of course. I'm fine. I um…" John fingered his hat nervously. _Stop acting like a kid on your first date. If it was anyone but Shawn you'd be mister large and in charge, so just stop it! _John cleared his throat and tried again. "I drew your name."

Shawn looked blank. He ran a hand over the half-pony tail that kept some of the hair out of his face.

"Hm? Drew my name?"

Cena looked around the hallway, guys mingling and mulling about waiting for RAW to get underway. Chris and Mike walked by, chatting like close friends, and Big Show nearly ran into Cena, before Shawn managed to jerk him out of the way.

"Let's go in here." Shawn said, leading John to the dressing room he was sharing with Hunter, who wasn't there at the moment. "Now, what are you talking about?" Shawn went over to the mirror and John watched as he pulled the band from his hair and let it fall around his shoulder. Shawn dug around in his bag and pulled out a black comb and ran it through his soft looking hair, that John was just dying to touch. The older man growled when a few strands came away between the teeth of the comb. He tilted his head down, looking irritably at the top of his head where his pretty hair was thinning. John couldn't care less, Shawn was still as beautiful to him as the first time he'd ever laid eyes on him as a young boy. He was too busy watching Shawn to realize he'd still not answered Shawns' question or told the man what he'd came here for. But Shawn suddenly perked up, cocking his head to the side.

"Oh!" He wagged the comb at John. "Are you talking about…" His smile grew wider. "That game of Adams?" He stuck the comb in his back pocket and pulled out a DX shirt.

"Yeah." John managed to get out. He was going to say more, but Shawn stripped out of his shirt and once again, John found himself unable to form coherent speech, or even coherent thoughts.

"What are you looking at?" Shawn looked innocent, and John wasn't sure if he was playing or if he really didn't get it.

"Uh…hm…"

Shawn slipped the shirt over his head and tucked it into his jeans. John almost laughed, as he thought of how Shawn was always ribbed about his 'high pants'. He went back to the mirror and fixed his hair up again in the half-pony tail.

"You er, didn't put a kink down." John said quietly.

Shawn laughed.

"I couldn't think of one. I guess I'm not very creative. I just figured I'd let my partner pick. It doesn't really matter to me, it's all for fun." He turned to Cena and stopped, frowning. "Um, as long as it doesn't involve tying me up or something too um…y'know dark I guess. I don't wanna be beat up or anything like that."

"I'd never hurt—I mean, um no I'm not into that stuff anyway." John sat on the bench and watched Shawn finish. When the blond came back over to the bench, standing in front of Cena and looking down at him, John pulled him down onto his lap. He trailed his fingers through Shawns' hair and pressed a light kiss to his lips.

"You're supposed to come out from under the ring and help Hunt in his match against Orton, tonights main event, right?"

Shawn nodded.

John kissed him again. He'd already done his promo for the night and wasn't going to wrestle, due to a shot to the head he'd taken at last nights pay-per-view so he wasn't medically cleared to wrestle on RAW. John pulled away from Shawns' lips and cupped his face. The young mans' eyes took on a mischievous glitter.

"I have an idea."

Shawn followed Cena down to the arena. The ring had been set up, and Rhodes and DiBiasse were inside the squared circle sparing and flirting more than anything. Ted landed a hard smack to Cody's ass which had the younger man jumping with a yelp.

"Not fair!" Cody pouted, pushing his lips out. "You're disqualified!"

Ted grabbed Cody around the waist as the dark haired man shrieked with laughter, and Ted hung him upside down on the turnbuckle and started to tickle him.

"Hey guys, out!" Cena called as he pulled Shawn along behind him, their fingers intertwined.

Ted sauntered away from Cody and leaned over the ropes.

"We're busy."

"Do I look like I care?" John answered, climbing up the steel steps. Cody wiggled in the corner, and finally got free enough that he did a back flip out of the corner, snuck over, and leaped onto Ted's back.

"Ha!" Cody exclaimed in triumph. He grabbed Ted's ear between his teeth and tugged at it. "Now what, Theodore!"

Ted shook Cody off and shoved him away with a growl.

"Idiot." He muttered, fixing his Legacy shirt. Cody looked hurt, the expression on his face wilting.

"What?" He asked timidly, siding up to Ted and trying to hold his hand.

"Go on Codfish, we're done." Ted yanked his hand free of Cody's grasping fingers and the young man sulked off. Ted glared at Cena, and John just stepped up to him, holding his gaze until Ted broke it and ducked under the ropes to leave.

"What are we doing?" Shawn asked quietly after Priceless had vacated the area.

"People are going to start coming in soon, come on." John said, ducking under the ropes and then crawling under the ring apron. Shawn's eyebrows soared upwards, perplexed. He leaned over the ropes, and soon Cenas' head popped back out from under the apron, smiling with those gorgeous dimples.

"Come on Shawny." Cena reached up and wrapped his hands around Shawns' ankle, tugging playfully as though he was going to pull him out of the ring, under the bottom rope, and drag him beneath the ring into a dark abyss, maybe like the Undertaker.

"Alright, calm down Champ. I'm coming."

Shawn crawled under the ring. There were a few things under there in the shadows, the light seeping in dimly from under the edges of the apron. He could see some chairs, an extra rope coiled up like a snake, some spare pads for the turnbuckles, and Hunters' sledge hammer near one of the corners, just waiting for use later. John was near the middle, lying down on his stomach, his blue eyes glimmering in the shadows.

"What are we doing?" Shawn whispered, not sure why he was whispering. Maybe it was because he felt like they were doing something prohibited, and sneaky, and that at any moment they'd be caught. For some reason, it was then that Shawn began to realize just what John had in mind.

Shawns' mouth fell open in surprise, and quickly clamped shut.

"We…we could be caught!" Shawn gasped in the darkness.

"We'll be okay, but that risk is what makes it more fun." John said, reaching out and stroking Shawns' cheek. The both rolled onto their sides, and John brought his lips to Shawns where they mingled softly, slowly, testing out the newness of each other. Tasting Shawns' lips, to John, was like tasting a piece of heaven. He sighed happily into the kiss, and urged Shawns' lips to part, and slowly slipped his tongue inside, finding this new exploration even better than the first.

They kept the kiss slow, they had time. John wrapped his arm around Shawns' shoulders and drew him closer, the lazy swirling of their tongues going deeper, teeth clicking softly, lips pressing harder together as mouths sought out more.

A murmur of voices started to well up outside, and leak in under the edges of the apron. They both recognized them as the arena filling up with people, and a shiver coursed through Shawns' body. He moved closer into John, wrapping his leg over Johns' waist as the young mans' fingers became wrapped and lost in Shawns' hair.

As they explored each other, the were lost in the soft touches and sounds, the wet warmth of lips and tongues, and soon they were both jolted by the opening pyro for RAW.

"Ow…" Shawn mumbled, rubbing at his lip. John had startled at the first blast of pyro and bit down on Shawns' lip.

"I'm sorry." John whispered, suckling Shawns' lower lip into his mouth and caressing it. Shawn sighed, and wrapped his arms around Johns' strong shoulders. They could hear things going on up above them, at some time the theme music for 'Walker Texas Ranger' had hit and that nights guest host Chuck Norris had got into the ring. They could vaguely hear him speaking, but his words didn't matter. Shawn smiled against Johns lips, early he'd saw Chuck Norris back stage and they had a brief 'argument' about whose kick was more powerful: A Chuck Norris round-house kick or a HBK Sweet Chin Music. Shawn laughed.

"What?" John asked, releasing Shawns' lip and playing with his pretty hair. He laid little, gentle, kisses against Shawns' chin and jaw, before moving down to his neck.

"Hmmm…" Shawn sighed against the feel of Cenas' lips against his skin. "Nothing important." He rasped.

Johns' hands slid under Shawns' shirt and peeled it away, his trembling hands eagerly exploring the skin and the muscular curves of Shawns' chest and torso. Up above them the opening match started, a divas match. Neither man cared.

Shawn pulled John's shirt over his head, tossing his hat somewhere, and he instantly drew his nails lightly down Johns' chest, bumping over the hard knobs of his nipples, over the rounded curves of his pecs, and down to the taught muscles of his abs as they bunches and pulled against Shawns' maddening touches.

"Oh, Shawn!" John nearly moaned into the blonds ear. Johns' teeth scraped the flesh at Shawns' neck and shoulder, drawing soft, beautiful sounds from him. Up above, the sound of the refs' hand banging down onto the matt in three successions, echoed the thundering of their hearts as the heat rose between them, and skin began to slick with sheer sweat.

Shawns' hands trailed down lower, feeling the crotch of Johns' jean shorts where his growing erection made the tough fabric pull taught.

"Shawn!"

Both of them startled again, Shawns' hand gripping out of reflex. It was another bang of pyro, and this time the song that followed was a choppy and lilted version of Jericho and Shows' music put into one. John groaned loudly at the feel of Shawns' hand grasping at him. Outside a chorus of boos echoed through the arena. Jericho started to rant, his footfalls on the canvas up above sending vibrations through the squared structure.

John fiddled with Shawns' pants, finally getting them undone and sliding them down Shawns' hips. They got caught up at his ankles, bunched at the top of his boots. John pulled each boot away, followed by each sock, and then freed Shawn of his jeans. The match up above had started, and there was a crash as someones body hit the matt hard, followed by Jericho trash talking his opponent. John tuned out the loudmouth Canadian and flicked his tongue against Shawns' toes, smiling when Shawn jerked ticklishly.

"John!"

He moved his tongue between Shawns' toes licking and tasting, making the crevasses warm and wet. Shawn wiggled for a bit, tense, and then calmed as he got more accustomed to the feeling. Shawns' toes flexed against his lips, and John slid one of the morsels into his mouth and suckled at it, drawing a sigh from Shawn, before letting it go with a wet pop. He moved up Shawns' foot and laid kisses on the top, lathing the skin with his tongue, up his ankle, nipping and kissing, up his calf leaving small red and lavender marks as he went. Johns' mouth traveled slowly up Shawns' body and taking time to commit the taste of him, the scent of him, the feel of his muscles tensing and relaxing, all to a sweet, sweet memory that he knew he'd come back to again and again.

Above them the bell rang, and JeriShows' music hit again. John and Shawn didn't even notice, they were too busy concentrating on Johns' mouth moving up and over Shawns knee, his hands sliding Shawns' legs apart to give himself more room as he slithered up Shawns' body.

Shawns' body and mind was on fire, as Johns' seemingly scorching lips made their way painfully slowly up his legs, switching back and forth between the left and right. He seemed to be inching closer and closer to the place Shawn was hottest, his stiff, throbbing member bumped up against his stomach and with each stroke of Johns' tongue against his skin, Shawn dragged his fisted hand up and then down his member, the combined actions driving him mad.

Johns' hot mouth got closer and closer, inching up Shawns' thigh, finding crease at his groin, and resting there for a moment, kissing and nipping. Shawn was murmuring his name, _John, John, John!_ Louder and louder until it was a shout, and the younger man wondered for a moment if their voices would be picked up on the mics under the matt, but the thought was fleeting, as other things were quickly racing through Johns' melting mind.

He moved Shawns' hand aside, and flicked his tongue against the underside of Shawns' member, drawing it slowly from base to tip. Shawn writhed, panting and making wonderful sounds that had John gasping against Shawns' cock.

"Oh fuck Shawn, ah, you're so good." John swirled his tongue around Shawns' head and then dragged his teeth lightly down, ending up at the base again. Shawns' hips bucked up out of instinct, what John was doing to him driving every muscle, nerve, and hormone in his body into overdrive. John started with his tongue again, leaving a hot, wet, line up Shawns' shaft, this time when he got to the tip, he sheathed it with his lips, and guided the rock-hardness into his mouth and down his throat, taking it slowly. Shawn latched his hands onto Johns' brawny shoulders and his fingers dug into the flesh, biting, sending a moan from Johns' throat that shuddered up out of him and through Shawns' aching length.

John bobbed his head up and down, sucking, lulling his tongue around Shawns' length, loving the feel of it against his tongue and insides of his cheeks as he hollowed them out. Shawns' clawing hands moved from his shoulders to the thick column of Johns' neck and for a few moments stayed there, feeling the tight muscles work, before moving to Johns' short hair and guiding him down a bit faster and harder, the need to release creeping closer. John followed Shawns' guidance, making the rhythm more intense. Shawns' hips rose up and down, meeting him with each bob of his head.

Another match was going on up above, the drum of footfalls and the crashing of bodies against the matt on some level registered with the two men under the ring, but somehow only intensified their feelings. The throb of cheers from fans outside seemed to send vibrations through the whole place, the eagerness in their cries causing John and Shawn to speed up what they were doing. Shawns' bucking and jerking became more sporadic and uncontrollable, the thrusts sending him against the back of Johns' throat each time.

"John, oh…oooh John!"

John slid up Shawn again, this time his lips wetly releasing Shawn for a moment, the frantic blond jerked, wanting more.

"Come Shawn, come for me." John panted quicky, before sliding his tongue over Shawns' head and coating his mouth and lips with pre-cum that was steadily oozing. He swallowed Shawn down again, and kept up a fast pace, hollowing his cheeks out to make a hard suction against Shawns' twitching member. The blond came hard, howling Johns' name, his nails scraping and digging into the flesh at the back of Johns' neck. Shawn gasped, struggling to catch his breath as John released him.

"Mmm…" John groaned, swallowing down most of Shawns' seed. "So good for me Shawn, ah…you come so good for me." John purred, stroking Shawn lazily. "Do it again Shawn…" John whispered, ducking his head down again, this time parting Shawns' legs and slipping his tongue between those two pretty round orbs, that always looked so perfect in those chaps. Shawn hissed, and wiggled against the feel. John moved his tongue into the opening, slicking Shawn with his own juices that he left in Johns' mouth.

"You ready for me baby?" John asked, pulling away and reaching between his own legs to stroke his thick, aching length a few times. He sighed when Shawns' voice came to his ears rough and ragged.

"I'm ready John, ah—so ready…hurry up Johnny!"

Shawns' fingers scrabbled at the floor as he was flooded again with such intense desires and needs, his whole body seeming to tingle with electricity and heat as John grunted and hoisted his legs up over his shoulders. It was a little work getting into a good position in the tight space under the ring, but finally John was ready, and Shawn whimpered, aware of Johns' head prodding at his entrance.

"John please, please, I want you inside of me…"

"I'm coming baby." John panted, moving in slowly. "Oh Shawn!" He cried out as Shawns' tightness melded around him. Shawns' name came off his lips again and again, as each thick inch moved inside. Shawn was getting impatient, beginning to roll his hips to take in more quicker, so John pushed in harder, reveling in the sounds that Shawn was making. With one last movement, he was completely inside, chewing his lips to shreds as Shawns' muscles tensed and relaxed around him.

"Ah-almost too-too much…" Shawn gasped, his words broken by mewls and moans.

"You…want me to stop?" John asked, moving a little.

"No! Don't stop, ah John no don't stop…I want it, oh—I need it John please don't stop!"

John started out slow, but that pace wasn't kept for long. Soon John was hammering in and out of Shawn, both of their voices rising into a crescendo as climaxes neared. The ramming of Johns' thickness again and again into Shawns' sweet spot sending him into a hot, spinning, current of ecstasy. It was quite possible the best sex that Shawn had experienced, and he had his share of experiences over the years. John cried out his name, and Shawn echoed his, their wet skin slipping and sliding against one another, Johns' intense thrusts sending shockwaves through Shawns' whole trembling frame. With one last thrust Shawn arched up, covering Johns' belly and chest with his second release. The feel of Shawns' seed splashing against him like molten lava, sprang forth from a passionate volcano, sent John careening over the edge and he let go filling Shawn.

Shawn lay there, looking up at the underside of the ring, panting as his vision seemed to cloud and then right itself, then cloud again. His chest was rising and falling in hard, labored breathing.

"Shawn?" John managed to croak out. He found Shawns' clothes and slid his underwear up his legs, lifting his waist to put them in place. Shawn purred. "Shawn baby, I can hear Jerry talking. Hunters' wrestling…I think you'll have to go out soon."

"Hmm?" Shawn murmured, his mind turning slowly. John got Shawns' jeans up and then got Shawn into his DX t-shirt, tucking it into his pants and sliding the button closed. Shawn sat up on his elbows, watching as John slid his boots onto his feet, forgetting about the socks.

"Shawn!" Another voice called. John jerked up, hitting his head on the underside of the ring and cursing. Shawn whipped his head around quickly, seeing Hunter ducking his head under the ring. "Wha—what are you doing?" Triple H grabbed his sledge hammer. He looked from the shadow of Cena, back to Shawn, and shook his head. "Two minutes." He growled, grabbed his sledge hammer, and ducked out.

Shawn ran a shaky hand over his golden hair, listening intently to the commentators. Triple H was swinging his sledge at Priceless, then Randy ran down the ramp, and wrestled the hammer from Triple H. Jerry screamed like a stuck cat, and shrieked the obvious that everyone (except for Shawn and Cena who were under the ring) could see: Randy was beating Triple H with his own hammer. That was Shawns' cue to pop up from the ring and land Sweet Chin Music to Rhodes and DiBiasse, before finishing with Randy. He was almost in such a haze that he couldn't do it, but he was HBK after all, The Icon, The Show Stopper, The Main Event, so of course he came through with flying colors. No one would have suspected that he was just fucked pleasantly senseless, under the ring, by John Cena. Shawn smirked.

The match ended, and Hunter accompanied him up the ramp, a strange smirk on his face. Shawn glanced at Hunter, blushing a bit.

"What Paul!" Shawn snapped, pulling the band from his hair and shaking his blond main.

"You um, your fly's open." Paul said, reaching down and zipping it for Shawn, with a laugh. The Heart Break Kid turned ten shades of red. He could only hope the cameras hadn't caught that.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Please excuse spelling errors, I finished this after 3am. **

"Hey, Cody?"

The dark haired young man stopped and glanced down at the hand gripping his arm. It was tattooed and he slowly traced his eyes up the arms, traces of pale, creamy skin winking out here and there between the bright ink. His lips curved into a smirk as he moved closer to the other man who chewed his lip ring, strands of his raven hair falling into his face.

"Yes?" The younger man purred, and ran fingers up Phils' leg, his nails lightly scraping against the jean fabric.

"Um, I just wanted to know where Ted's staying. I figured you'd know." Phil spit out quickly, releasing Codys' wrist. Cody folded his arms over his chest and pouted dramatically, his glittering eyes and that cute little nose stud winking in the light of the hallway.

"Why Teddy? He's not nearly as fun as I am…"

Phil rolled his eyes and swept his fingers through his hair and back from his face.

"I'd rather be in the arms of my Texan, thank you Codfish. But I need to know where Ted's staying because I drew his name. Remember, you know Adams' game? I figured it was about time I get this over with. I'm not sure why I agreed to be in this anyway, casual sex…I must have been off that day. But I might as well come through with my end of the deal." Phil shrugged as Codys' eyes lit up and he grabbed the straight edge mans' shoulders.

"Ooh! What are you going to do to Teddy? What kink did he put down!" Cody hopped up and down excitedly and it made Phil laugh, the way he carried on. Sometimes Phil wondered if Cody didn't belong in the Divas' locker room instead, along with Jericho—or rather 'Christina'. As if Paul Wight might hear him thinking the taboo nickname, Phil glanced warily around, then laughed again. Of course, The Big Show couldn't read minds but his massive size and his bellowed threat to flatten anyone who called Chris 'that name' again was enough to make anyone shiver with the fear of death.

"Tell me!" Cody demanded again, whining and tugging at Phils' ribcage hoody. "Let me come too, Teddy won't mind!"

"No, you're not coming, and no again, I won't tell you his kink. I asked first."

"Fine. Room 219." Cody flicked his palm out at Phil in a 'talk to the hand' gesture and sauntered past him, as though he was highly offended that Punk wouldn't engage him in their fun.

Phil chalked the number up in his mind and headed to his room, once inside he tossed his duffel onto the bed and opened it, pulling out what was inside and shaking his head. He didn't mind doing these kinds of things for John, but for someone random, it was a little strange. If he admitted the truth, it was even kind of thrilling. At that thought, Phil bit his lip and stripped from his jeans and hoody and squeezed into the outfit that would do to fulfill Teds' request.

He pulled his signature hoody on over the ensemble to hide it from prying eyes as he moved through the hallway and to the elevator, and through the hallway again until he was at room 219. He let out a sigh of relief when no one had quirked an eyebrow at him, after all his legs were bare but by now most everyone was used to seeing him walk around the hotel in a hoody or one of Johns' button up shirts sans pants…because pants were apparently the devil to CM Punk.

He thought about turning away, but he'd came this far so he tapped on the door. He took a clumsy step back when the door swung open, astonished at what he saw, his words failing him as his mouth flapped open and shut like a fish out of water.

"Can I help you?" Jeff purred, leaning in the doorway. His rainbow hair was wet and hanging loose over his shoulders, his ivory form nude, smeared with chocolate sauce. His green eyes sparkled with mischief and his lips turned into a grin at Phils' reaction.

"I-I…uh…"

"Yes?" Jeff sighed, boredly, as he ran his hand over his own cock and then brought his sticky-smeared hand to his lips, licking at the chocolate that stained his fingers.

"T-Ted…I'm looking for Ted!" Phil managed to choke out, as he averted his gaze from the younger Hardy. Behind him a familiar voice called out in annoyance, demanding Jeff come back into the room.

"Hold on Matt. It's Philly!" Jeff called back over his shoulder.

"Ah don't care who it is!"

"Just never mind—I-I'll find it myself." Phil tripped over his feet as Matt appeared behind Jeff, scowling, and flicking his tongue against Jeffs' cheek.

"133." Matt offered, before wrapping his arms around Jeffs' slender waist and dragging him back into the room, lastly the dark Southerner kicked the door shut. Phil slumped against the wall for a moment, trying to collect himself and remember the new room number—all while vowing to find Cody later and do something mean to him as revenge.

Straightening his hoody, Phil took the elevator back down and wished he had something to hide behind when Dave Batista practically molested him with his eyes and made comments about hiss pretty, shapely legs, that if John was there would have certainly earned the Animal a stiff shot to the jaw. But John wasn't there, and again Phil thought about forgetting the whole thing and going back to John and using what he had on under his hoody to entertain him instead.

Once again he stamped down on that thought and headed to another room, which better be the right one this time, or he promised himself he would forget Ted. With a deep breath, Phil peeled off his hoody and tossed it to the side, but not before taking out what he'd stuffed in the pouch and sitting it on his head. With a heavy fist he banged on the door.

"Police, open up!"

_Maybe that was a bad idea. _Phil thought to himself as he imagined doors around them flying open and people poking their heads out to see what the commotion was, and seeing CM Punk dressed the way he was. He shifted uncomfortably and tried to tug down the tiny shorts he was wearing, as he wondered if they even covered his pasty ass.

The door flew open and there Ted was, in his underwear and rubbing his eyes, looking groggy.

"Police what--" Ted stopped when he noted the policeman at the door was not a real policeman, but one of his co-workers in a sexy number that made the mental fog from his deep sleep suddenly disappear, leaving him wide awake and wide eyed. Phil looked amazing as Ted quickly drank in the scene of him framed in the doorway.

He wore a pair of black leather flat-heeled boots that hugged the curve of his calf nicely and ended just below the knee. From there his milky skin look as soft and sweet as cream as Ted traced the girlish curve of his leg further upwards. Phils' hips were barely covered, his crotch nicely outlined in a pair of tiny navy blue shorts that looked as though they'd been spray painted on. A heavy black belt sat low on his hips and at one hip hung a nightstick, from the other hip dangled a set of winking handcuffs. His shirt was a light powdery blue that looked amazing laid against his ivory skin and his dark eyes and hair. The shirt was tied into a knot at the bottom rather than buttoned all the way down, so Phils' midriff was bare, showing off the Straight Edge tattoo that curved over his stomach. The top was complete with a silver badge and patches on the sleeves, and the whole thing was made complete with the cloth hat that sat crookedly on his head, matching the color of those barely-there shorts that kept drawing Teds' gaze back again and again.

Phil shoved his way into the room and slammed the door shut. He ducked behind Ted who had yet to say a word, and slapped one of the cuffs onto Teds' wrist. Phil pulled him close and hissed into his ear.

"You're under arrest."

Ted managed to turned quickly, causing Phil to lose his grip on the cuffs and let it go. Ted reached around and grabbed a handful of Phils' ass as his eyes burned fire at the dark man.

"For what, officer?"

The answer was a sharp slap across Teds' face that sent him stumbling back. Punk whipped out his nightstick and twirled it.

"For assaulting an officer." He bit out, tugging again at the skimpy shorts.

"Are you gonna issue a warning? Or am I gonna get locked up?"

Phil backed Ted into the bed, the back of his legs hitting hard, forcing him to sit. He watch transfixed as Phils' hand gripped the thick nightstick and moved slowly up it, then back down, a shadowy smirk curving his pierced lips as Ted fidgeted.

He got up again and pounced on Punk, unable to keep his hands from roaming over the tight fabric of his costume. Ted was shoved away roughly, and before he could turn back to Phil a hard whack landed across his ass, pitching him to the floor. Phil climbed onto Teds' back, holstering the nightstick. He reached again for Teds' wrist and grabbed the empty cuff that hung from it, as he pressed and ground his excited groin against Teds' ass. The groan that filled the room as a result had Phil blushing pink as he struggled with Ted, trying again to get his other hand cuffed.

Ted flipped Officer Phil and pinned him, sending his cop hat tumbling to the floor. Ted studied Phils' face and the way his soft, ebony, tresses fell it and stuck to his flushed, sweaty cheeks as he panted. He brushed some of Phils' sticky hair away and captured his lips roughly, sucking the cold ring into his mouth and chewing on the delicate pink flesh.

Phil struggled against Ted, purposefully bucking up in attempt to dislodge him which only made the young mans panting and moans grow. With one final hard thrust Phil sent Ted off of him and both men quickly got to their feet, circling each other as if they were opponents in a wrestling ring. Phil had the nightstick out again, tapping it against his open palm.

"I'm going to have to get rough with you if you refuse to cooperate." The dark one growled, flicking his tongue out and tasting the tang of blood on his lip.

"I can guarantee you I won't behave." Ted laughed lowly as he raised his wrist and jangled the free cuff taunting the sexy officer who couldn't seem to handle his violator.

"You're so bad, Theodore." Phil shook his head, nearing Ted again.

After another brief tussle Phil managed to get Ted bent over the bed. With one quick move he yanked Teds' boxers to his ankles gaining a yelp from the other man as he tried to be unruly. Phil put a quick end to that when he brought the nightstick hard against Teds' bare flesh, immediately a red stripe rose angry on the sensitive skin.

"On the ground!" Phil shouted, punctuating his demand with two more hard whacks, the feel of the heavy weapon connecting against Teds' soft flesh and the pained-pleasured sounds it drew from him was a turn on, and even though Ted slowly moved to lower himself to the ground, Phil hit his ass again and again yelling for Ted to get down. The younger man quickly pressed himself to the floor, the roughness was both horrible and wonderful, the throbbing sting of the weapon sent Teds' cock into a painful hardness. Phil grabbed his short hair, his fingers scraping and raking against his scalp as Phil grappled for a hold. He yanked Teds' head to the side, noting the glittering trails of tears that streaked his hot cheeks.

He finally got Teds' other hand secured and jerked him up to his feet, and led him to the bed where he deposited him and then straddled Teds' waist, his erect stiffness brushing against Punks' crotch when he did.

Ted groaned out his pleasure and arched up into Punk, wishing he could run his hands over the smooth skin of his belly and feel the flesh twitch and shiver beneath his touch as he traced his fingertips over the tattooed words. But his hands were secured behind his back, leaving him to the mercy of mad seated at his waist.

"Officer…

"You have the right to remain silent!" Punk barked, bringing the nightstick across Teds chest, drawing a breathless 'oomph' sound from him. "I suggest you use that right."

Ted nodded, and watched as Phil studied his twitch cock as he ran his tattooed hand up and down the nightstick slowly, as though lazily jerking it off.

"Please?" Ted whined, winning him another hard blow from the heavy handed officer. He writhed uncontrollably, the pain only making him harder, and Punks' fingertips teasingly brushed over his throbbing head. He bit into his lip to keep back the moan that wanted to burst out, and tasted blood seep into his mouth and cover his front teeth. Smirking, Phil bent over him and lapped at his crimson lips, sweeping his tongue inside, and ravaging Teds' mouth as his hand reached between them and lazily stroked Teds' arousal.

Ted couldn't keep back the sounds any longer, but they were muffled by Punks' mouth sealed to his as their bodies slicked with sweat, causing Phils' uniform to seem horribly tight and stuffy. Gasping, the raven haired man broke the kiss and sat back on Teds' thighs, once in a while tracing his finger lightly up and down the underside of his erection, grinning when it made Ted whimper, the sounds full of unspoken pleading.

Punk left Teds' cock twitching and wanting, and sat back. Slowly he peeled off his sweaty shirt and tossed it aside. Next he unlatched the heavy belt and laid it on the bed, followed by raising up to slowly and seductively slip out of the skimpy little shorts. The minute they were down on his hips, his own erection sprang out, the sudden freedom from the hot, tight, fabric making him moan in pleasure.

"Now, my prisoner…" Phil smirked, crawling up Teds' wiggling, fidgeting body. "You will do as I say." He sat on Teds' chest and presented his cock to Teds' lips. The younger man flicked his tongue out against the head as Phil stroked himself, his head rolled to the side, his teeth grinding against his lip ring as pleasure surged through his body at the wet, warm, touches. "Open." Phil demanded.

"What if I don't want--"

Phils' hand came crashing into his face, sending Teds' head lulling to the side hard against the pillow, the taste of blood in his mouth again.

"Police brutality!" Ted growled, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth.

"Hm, you haven't seen police brutality yet."

Punk laughed, and gripped Teds' jaw firmly and applied more and more pressure until he opened it. When he moved his hand away he could already see the fingertip bruises forming purple against Teds' skin. Phil slipped his hardened length into Teds' mouth and reveled in the feel of his warm tongue suckling and caressing, his teeth lightly scraping against the velvet hardness was making Phil rock his hips, wanting more.

The taste of the straight edge man and the throbbing pulse reverberating through Teds' mouth had his own cock growing even harder, and he whined and groaned against Phils' erection, sending a shudder and moan through the officer. Slowly, Phil pulled out and Ted hollowed his cheeks against his hard-on as he did so, creating a suction that had Phil nearly coming and filling Teds' mouth with his molten seed. However, will power was one of Punks' strengths so he held on, although he was starting to leak.

He slithered back down Teds' body and reached behind to where he'd left the utility belt, and from a small pouch pulled out a tube of lube and readied both himself and Ted.

"Are you ready to pay your fine?"

Ted nodded eagerly and arched his hips up, ready to meet Phil as his fingers slid in and out, stroking his prostate. Punk withdrew his fingers, and replaced them with something even better, both of them crying out. The pace was fast and hard, Phils' hands tightly griping and bruising Teds' hips as he pumped roughly in and out as Ted thrashed beautifully beneath him. Ted fell over the edge first, grunting out his climax as his seed splashed into Punks' face and over his own stomach. Phil came shortly after with a few last thrusts, filling Ted before pulling out and collapsing next to him.

"Ah, wow." Ted sighed as grabbed a pillow and held it close, trying to steady his breathing. "Is Layfield gonna kill me for this?" Ted asked, squinting cautiously at Punk as he came down from his climax. Phil laughed tiredly.

"Nah, he's in this too, remember. If he puts me on the couch a night for playing this game, then I'm putting his ass on the couch for a week. You might think he wears the pants in our relationship but not really, I do. Well, figuratively at least." A soft smile upturned Phils' lips and his eyes glowed just thinking of his loud mouthed Texan lover. "He's wrapped around my little tattooed fingers…and I'm wrapped around his big Texas long hor--"

"Okay, that's enough!" Ted said hurriedly, clapping his hand over Phils' mouth. They both laughed.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Thanks for the reviews! Next up...I have to slap a WARNING on this. It's very intense. No musi or superstars were hurt during the writing of this chapter. Don't try this at home. Have fun!**_

John Bradshaw Layfield limped into the elevator car, his back nagging at him, his white Stetson crooked on his head. He pressed the button number 7 and flicked his honey eyes at the metallic doors as they began to silently slide closed.

"Hey, wait!" A familiar voice called out, and John shoved a pointed boot in the way of the door. It sprang back and the bald man sprinted in, huffing, and offering his thanks. Layfield simply nodded and arched his back as the doors began to slip closed again, grimacing at the pain.

"Ah'm getting too old for this." He mumbled lowly, not realizing Glen was watching him closely with the ghost of a smirk giving his lips a slight curve. Glen quietly lowered the duffle that was on his shoulder and slowly unizipped it, hoping John was too distracted to notice the minute 'zzzp' sound issuing from bag as he opened it. Appartenly, John was too distracted with his back, one of his hands curved around to knead at the lumbar as soft sighs and groans whispered from his lips. The sounds only spurred Glen on to what he knew was going to be a fun night for both of them. When he'd read Layfields' request on that Post-It note, he had laughed darkly—an expression that was more Kane-like than Glen-like. But for what John had scribbled on his slip of paper, the perfect hand had drawn it.

Glen left the bag in the corner of the elevator and as the fifth 'ding' sounded from the elevator he whipped Layfields' hat away and easily took John to the ground. Layfield immediately wove a string of booming curses and nearly dislodged Glen before a knee was ground hard into his lower back, bringing a yelp from him. His fingers scrabbled at the slick flooring of the elevator as tears sprang to his eyes as the weight being pressed into his spine.

"What are you doing ya fuckin' son of a bitch!" Layfield spat, trying to shift a little, but only making the pain worse. Something cold and metallic slipped over his head and tightened around his neck. The pressure on his back released and despite the ache he got to his feet quickly, not wanting to be leaped on again, but as soon as he was up he was yanked sharply forwards, almost pitching down again. His fingers slipped under the tight chain around his neck in attempts to loosen it as he raved, but Glen yanked again, sending Layfield to his knees.

The grounded man snarled up, behind them the last 'ding' sounded and the doors began to part. Glen reached over to the keypad and shut them again. From his knees, John looked up at the bald man panting. His soft, chestnut hair was mussed and falling over his forehead, his honey eyes burning with enraged fire, a trail of sweat dripping down his jaw.

"What—what do you think yer doin' Jacobs!" Layfield bellowed, shocked when the butt of Glens' hand connected sharply with his face, whipping his head to the side. The Texan blinked and shook his head, then with a cry lunged at Glen and wrapped around his legs in attempt to bring him down. For a moment the two scuffled on the floor of the elevator, both cursing at the other, though most of the damnation was poured upon Glen from John. Finally John was forced to stop, curled on his side, as he gasped for breath and hacked as the links around his neck tightened until he felt dizzy…and twitchy beneath his jeans.

The moment he stopped struggling, the links around his neck that seemed like a noose loosened. Layfield gasped and coughed and rubbed at the sore ring around his neck gently as his tough fingers would allow. His shapely lips pulled back from his perfect teeth in a grimace and he blinked up at Glen who was standing over him with a wide, devious looking smile.

"Tonight you're gonna do as I say, bitch." Glen sneered, fisting his hand in Layfields' hair. "Get up."

"Fuck off! I ain't no ones goddam bitch!" John growled, tearing away from Glens' grip on his hair and leaving light strands behind. Glen shook his hand out and the torn tresses fluttered to the floor. John got to his feet and leaned in the corner of the elevator. He dragged the sleeve of his disheveled shirt across his eyes and snarled at Glen as the bald man tilted his head down and looked up from under his heavy brow, the threatening posture a Kane-like gesture.

"You are tonight. So I suggest you cooperate, if not, then I'll just have to make you!" To prove his point Glen pulled on the choke chain, a raspy cough came out of John as he stumbled forward but managed to keep his balance. Glen wrapped the leash around his own wrist to keep it secure and reached for Johns' shirt collar and popped button after button, tearing some of them because John was struggling with him, until his salmon colored shirt was splayed open. Glen practically tore it from Johns' body and cast it aside.

Then came Johns' belt, the moments Glens' fingers curled around it a solid punch landed to the side of his head and Glen fell backwards, dragging John down on top of him with a gagged yell. Pain seared through Johns' neck as the metallic coil pulled him harshly down. His first instinct was to get back up and he jerked up hard, only to have his air cut off and land on top of Glen again. Stars danced before Johns' eyes as Glen rolled him off and stripped him of his belt, pants, and underwear. Blearily, John could make out Glens' barked orders for him to get up.

Shakily John got to his knees and rolled his eyes upwards to Glen, squinting at the pale round face with glimmering dark eyes. He tried to say something more, but all that came out was a gasp. Still not one to give up without a fight, John reared back to punch Glen again, thought this time he was planning on connecting his knuckles with a different head. But he was tired, already drained from a grueling match with Mysterio and then from this tussle, that Glen easily intercepted his attempt at defending himself.

"Stupid, stupid bitch." Glen laughed lowly as he grabbed Johns' belt from where it had coiled on the floor and yanked both his hands behind his back. John tried again to struggle, and even Glen was getting tired, with having to fight him so much…but it was really fun. Glen gouged his knee into Johns' back again and leaned into it. Johns' cry filled the tiny compartment and his struggling ceased for the moment, allowing Glen to secure his wrists with the strip of leather that donned the brand 'Giorgio Armani' engraved into the buckle.

Glen gripped Johns' chin and forced his head up.

"Now, you listen to me you worthless cunt, you're going to do as I say."

John spat in Glens' face, the other mans' glare dropping into an expression as cold as stone as he wiped the spit away and back handed the proud Texan, drawing blood from his lip.

"Get up, you cock sucking whore!" Glen yanked the man to his feet and looked him up and down, nude but for his brown and tan cowboy boots and the cuffs of black socks that were visible from the tops. Glen smirked, and grabbed Johns' Stetson and capped it onto his head as the Texan glared at him venomously. Laughing, Glen pushed a button on the keypad and the doors sprang open with a dainty sound. Layfield shrank back in embarrassment when Paul Wight, Chris, and Matt were all standing waiting on the elevator. Show averted his eyes with a booming laugh and Chris pawed at Matt with one hand while scrubbing with his eyes with the other, screaming at the top of his annoying voice that he needed bleach to pour into his baby blues. Johns' face burned crimson as Glen led him past the three, Matt whistling and yowling mockingly as the others laughed.

John yanked back, choking himself and gaining more laughter that was cut off as the elevator doors closed again. He fell to the floor, without his arms to catch him for balance his cheek scraped against the carpet searing away a swatch of skin. Glen sighed, and wrenched him up to his knees by his hair.

"Crawl then, I don't care, but we're getting to my room one way or the other." Glen yanked on the chain and John coughed. He tried to struggle to his feet but kept falling as Glen pulled and pulled on the chain so that it was biting into his flesh in a raw, blistering, ring.

Once at the door Glen swiped his keycard as John murmured curses under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut at the sting of sweat. Glen threw open the door and kicked John in the side, rolling him into the room, and slamming the door closed behind them.

"Jacobs what are you doing you mother fu--"

The pop of Glens' open palm against Johns' jaw sounded like a gun shot in the room. He wrapped the chain around his wrist, shortening it to an absurd length, and bent, pulling John so they were nose to nose.

"Let's get one thing straight here…_wrestling god._" Glen mocked, his voice dripping with disdain. "I am your god tonight, and you—well you're just a dirty little bitch."

"Ah'm not--" Another pop to his jaw, harder this time. Johns' head spun with dizziness and pain and he snapped his mouth shut, tasting the tang of blood against his tongue. The taste sent a sweet moan from his closed lips and Glen grabbed his chin roughly, fingers digging bruises into soft flesh.

"You disgust me you diseased little cunt." Glen hissed, using his palms against Johns' chest to shove the Texan onto his back.

John moaned and writhed, the ache in his back making his muscles scream. Glen let some slack up on the chain and undid his jeans. He shimmied them down to his ankles and then kicked them off, followed by his shirt flying over his shoulder. He straddled Johns' chest and stroked himself, smearing his twitching head against Johns' face and lips as the Texan squirmed.

"Open your mouth, bitch!" Glen demanded, his hardness growing. "Open your mouth like the dirty whore you are!" Glen gripped Johns' jaw and shook him when he didn't obey, the back of his head hitting hard against the floor on the last thrust. With a closed-lipped moan of pained pleasure John arched under Glen, the movement making his back yelp at him again, but the fire running through his veins was enough to endure. Glen started shaking him again, and stars swam before the Texans' eyes as his world went dizzy and topsy-turvy. "I said now damn it!" Glen bellowed, yanked the collar so hard it tightened and bit the skin, pinched the flesh between the rings, and immediately cutt off Johns' air. He gasped for air and the moment his mouth sprang open in need, it was filled not with air but with Glens' raging stiffness.

"Suck." Glen demanded as he thrust into Johns' mouth. The Texan coughed and gagged, still barely able to breathe. The sensation the lack of oxygen was giving him was exciting combined with Glens' brutality had John twisting and writhing beneath the other man, wanting relief for his aching member. Johns' lungs and throat burned with the need to breathe, his chest was tight with it. Glens head was tilted over his shoulder, eyes rolled back in delight against the wet, warm, feeling of Johns mouth and his throat spasming around his cock as he banged rhythmically into the Texan as he spat degrading things at him.

Johns' head was getting lighter and lighter. The ceiling blurred in and out of focus before his eyes and he started to buck wildly, his body demanding to unseat Glen, to loosen the choke, to get air! His arms and hands were numb behind him, long ago fallen asleep due to being tied off with his own belt, and when he tried now to pull them free all he felt was a dull, sluggish, movement of those limbs and the slow tingle of pins and needles as they attempted to revive themselves. The anxiety and danger overwhelmed him drove him crazy, and he didn't know if he needed his hands free more to shove Glen away to get air, or to stroke the fuck out of his engorged hard on.

Finally and unexpectedly Glen loosened the choke, and Johns' immediate reaction was to suck and gulp in air, but instead he got one final, jack-hammer thrust from Glen into his throat, gagging him so hard that he was sick and started to choke on Glens' seed and chunks of vomit. Glen rolled John to his side and banged him between the shoulders until a puddle of goop spilled out of his mouth and down his chest. John coughed and hacked, his breathes hard and painful.

"Who am I?" Glen panted as he jerked John to his knees by his bound wrists. The Texans' arousal was throbbing flush against his belly and a pitiful whine dripped from his lips as he wheezed. "Who am I!" Glen demanded again, tearing Johns' hair and dragging a moan from him that sent tingles of excitement through the dominators body.

"You-yer…oh!" John struggled to find his words as such intense sensations tore apart his body. "Ah, you—you're…my—my god." John choked out, and Glen slammed him back to the floor, his face connecting so hard with the floor that blackness flooded his vision and a warm wetness trickled down his face. He could vaguely make out Glens' voice coming down on him again like an iron fist but it wasn't clear. In the darkness silver specs swirled, bursts of color lit the backs of his eyes like psychedelic fireworks. There was a sensation of being shaken, again and again and again. Slowly, the fuzz before his eyes cleared and light came back. All he saw was the carpet and a mess of cum, bits of vomit, and blood smearing it.

"Who are you? What's your name! What is it!" Glen screamed at him, the sounds more animalistic than human.

"Jo-John…Lay--"

"No!" The chain jerked tight on his neck, then slacked. "Bad dog!"

"Joh—n…"

"Bad dog!" Glen cried again, snapping the leash. John whimpered. "Don't you remember, you fucking cunt, don't you remember what I told you your name was, you filthy piece of shit!"

John racked his clouded mind to try and think back to the elevator, it was all jumbled, the insults Glen had thrown at him many and harsh. The bald mans' voice growled against his ear, heated, full of venom.

"B-bi-bitch." John stuttered out quietly.

"What!"

"Bitch! M'name…is Bitch." The proud Texan said louder, his throat screaming raw and ragged from abuse.

"That's right." Glen laughed darkly, and licked his lips. He reached for Johns' wrists and untied the belt, tossing it aside. Johns' arms fell to his sides, against the floor, like dead weight. From the shoulders down he couldn't even feel them anymore, complete numbness had taken them over, though he was sure by morning he would be begging for painkillers and Jack Daniels. "Now, get up to your hands and knees little Bitch."

Moving his arms was out of the question. Moving any part of his body seemed about as easy as asking him to touch the sun. There wasn't a part of him that wasn't in pain, but still he found himself trying. He finally managed to get his knees under him, his ass up, but his arms refused to do anything but tingle minutely, his face still planted into the soiled carpet.

Glens' hands found Johns' hips and held them, the chain still twist around his wrist for use if needed, and helped steady the shaking man beneath him. Glen was already rock hard again, and without preparation, he forced his thick length into Layfield whose agonized cries filled the room.

The burn cut through him, and the splitting pressure just seemed like it would keep coming and coming, never ending. His fingers struggled to work, biting into the carpet, tearing the nails. His quivering legs turned to Jell-o and gave out, but Glens' strength held his waist and kept him from collapsing completely as the big man thrust and wiggled to get his full length inside. Finally, the movement stopped for a moment, and John breathed out a relieved sigh as tears freely flowed from his eyes and mingled with the mess dirtying his face. Warmth drizzled down his thighs, and the pain, the delicious pain—felt like fire eating through his insides, as though Glen had just impaled him with a hot iron. Shocked, he heard his own voice in his ears, his drawl intensified, bending his own words until he could barely make them out, the pleading in them pitiful, as he begged Glen to fuck him, despite the feeling that he might not recover from this.

The moment of stillness did not last long. Glen started up a quick, hard, pace, banging in and out again and again, making Johns' teeth clatter together and cut his tongue, rattling the very bones in his body, until John was sure they'd all turned to useless powder. In desperation Johns' hands scrabbled at the carpet as new peaks of pain and pleasure were reached and with a scream that seemed to shred his throat, he came hard, coating his own belly and chest with release. Moments later, Glen came, and pulled out, kicking Johns' ass to the floor. The Texan just laid there in a spent heap, his mind drifting from him, his eyes barely open.

Glen fell to his knees, panting. He loosened the choke leash and slipped it over Johns' head, freeing him at last, though the poor guy was unconscious. Glen rolled John to his back and lightly slapped his gooey cheeks—his face ruined with the mess and streaked with blood from a cut in his eyebrow and from his mouth. John didn't respond. What small slits Glen could see of his eyes just rolled. Glen reached for his shirt and used it to clean Johns' face, chest, and belly of the mess. Glen managed to get John into his arms, his body limp, as Glen carried him to the bed and situated him with pillows. He turned on the bed side lamp and grimaced when the light spilled over Johns' neck, the column ringed with thick black and purple bruising form the choke leash. The wound above his eyes still leaked blood, and Glen went to his bag to find some bandages. He finished tending to John, then slipped into the other side of the bed, curling away from John. As Glen drifted to sleep, the words on the Post-It note scribbled in Layfields writing floated before his eyes. _Break me—John Layfield. _As Glen drifted to sleep, he wondered if maybe he'd gone too far. But then again, it was Mark who had suggested the choke leash.


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Sorry this update took so long. I had an update in the works for a dif pairing, but I lost it. *mourns* Then I had some other serious fics I wanted to work on for a while—but never fear! I have not forgotten this smutfest. Hope you enjoy this!**_

Christian walked through the halls, down to the lobby, searching for the man whose name was written on that scrap of paper he'd drawn from the hat some time ago. This was his time to do it, and his only time seeing as how the roster was in Stamford for a show later that night. He'd made sure to get to the hotel and check in early, just like he'd made sure that the man whose secret wish he was carrying out arrived early too. He'd called him up and managed to sell some story about how Vince wanted to talk with both of them about a new storyline that would move Christian to Raw—as if that was going to happen anytime soon with how badly he was needed on ECW. But Cena had bought it. Now Christian was waiting for him in the lobby, slouched down on a plush couch, snorting to himself as he watched two of his other coworkers who had also arrived early.

Over in a corner at a black desktop computer, Mike 'The Miz' stood leaning on the desk. A look of exasperation was on his face, one of his hands tugging and twirling at the his short hair. His teeth worried his lip for a moment, and then he pressed his palm to his forehead, closing his eyes, sighing with impatience. Sitting in the chair at the computer was the object of Miz's obvious frustrations: Shawn Michaels. He was peering at the computer screen, over the tops of his plastic reading glasses, as he hesitantly moved the mouse as though he'd never seen one before and that it might hurt his curled fingers.

"I just don't understand." Christian heard Shawn say. "I just say what I'm doing…and people read it?"

"Yeah Shawn, it's called 'social networking'." Mike explained in a slow voice, as though he was talking to a child, finger quoting the words "social" and "networking".

"But…wait. So I just--"

There were some slow, pecking type sounds, as Shawn no doubt hunted around the keyboard for the letters he needed. Miz leaned in a little, and read over Shawn's shoulder.

"I'm on the computer." Miz read. "Really, Shawn—really? You're supposed to make it fairly interesting—unlike Jericho."

"Well I'm not doing anything interesting!" Shawn raised his voice in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm here with you, what's interesting about that?"

Mike narrowed his eyes at the older man.

"This is the last time I try to help an _old man_." Mike huffed, storming off.

Christian got up from the couch, laughing, and sauntered over.

"Hey Shawn, you haven't seen Cena come in yet, have you?"

"No, can't say that I have." Shawn replied, quickly typing something into the white box on his Twitter page, before clicking 'update'. Christian laughed again, as he read over Shawn's shoulder.

"**HeartbreakShawn** having a great time in Stamford, CT annoying mikethemiz." Christian and Shawn shared a smirk. "So, you already knew how?"

"Yeah, I was stuck with Jericho on a flight and all he did was play with his Twitter thingy. I was so bored I just watched over his shoulder."

Christian shook his head, and frowned.

"Shawn, you really shouldn't watch other men play with their Twitters."

They both burst out laughing.

"Hey, Christian what's up!" A voice broke through their giggles, familiar to both of them. It was Cena. The Champ waved in his well-known (and maybe well-worn) U Can't C Me gesture as he went to the desk to check in.

"Keep annoying Mizzer. He deserves it for eating chicken in the locker room." Christian said, patting Shawn on the shoulder before he left him to side up to Cena. "You ready to go?" Christian asked, nodding at the clock hanging over the check in desk. "You know Vinnie Mac doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Cena nodded, and they made their way out of the building. Soon they were inside another building across town, heading for Vince's office to the kayfabe meeting Christian had pitched to John. John was rambling the whole time as they walked, and Christian just nodded, throwing in the occasional grunt of acknowledgement as he figured out the finer details of his plan. Really, it was a very juvenile plan. Many a teenager had pulled off this same plan in order to get out of class for those blissful moments bought by the pull of one emergency lever.

"John, wait a minute. I have to take a leak before we go in." Christian said, ducking into a bathroom that was just near McMahon's office. He was glad when he glanced over his shoulder to find that John hadn't followed him in, or else his plan wouldn't be carried out as smoothly as he was striving for.

Christian ducked into one of the stalls, and pulled out of his shirt pocket a single cigarette, and a lighter. He lit the end of the white stick, and climbed up onto the toilet, pinched the cigarette between his fingers. He held the orangey, smoldering end as close as he could to the spout of a sprinkler that poked down from the ceiling like a nose. After a few moments, the wail of alarm sounded through the small space, and a spray of water showered down over his dirty-blonde hair and quickly wet his shirt to his body.

"Shit!" Christian cursed, as his feet nearly slipped off the toilet seat, to send him crashing to the tiles below. Luckily, he managed to keep his balance and safely hop down. He hurried out of the bathroom to find John start trotting down the hallway towards an exit. Christian jogged to catch up to him, and grabbed his elbow. "John, wait a minute." Christian hissed, tugging John's shirt. "Come here."

"We need to get outside, the fire alarm just—why are you wet?" John suddenly asked, noticing. He burst into laughter. "Ha—you got caught under the sprinkler!"

"Just come here, damn it!" Christian managed to get John near the office that Vince had just came out of, a look of annoyance twisting his face as he joined the exiting throng of suits in marching towards the exit doors.

"What are you doing—the fire alarms goin' off that means leave the building, not go the opposite way!"

Christian finally managed to get John into Vince's office, and closed the door behind them, locking it. John's eyes were wide, and he immediately reached for the door, only to have his hand swatted away.

"I set the alarm off." Christian explained, moving up to John, forcing Cena's footsteps back until the backs of his legs bumped Vince's desk.

"You…you mean there's no fire?" John asked, a hint of both relief and confusion in his words.

"Oh, there's a fire, but it's contained." Christian said lowly, taking John's hand, and placing it against the crotch of his jeans. "For now, at least."

John quickly drew his hand away.

"J-Jay…"

"Hmm?" Christian pressed his lips to John's, his wet body moving against John's as their lips clashed.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh, I believe I'm gonna fuck you." Christian said dully, as though he was bored with the whole thing. John's eyes grew wide. It just dawned on him what was going on, he wanted this, he had requested it...sex in the bosses office. John swallowed hard as his hands went clammy as they gripped the edge of the sturdy desk. His blue eyes flicked around to the various posters on the wall, one of his own face behind his splay-fingered hand, a gold belt slung over his shoulder. John closed his eyes tight.

"I…don't know if I can do this."

"Aw, what's wrong John, this isn't exactly PG is it?" Christian chuckled. "Or is that exciting? Does it get you off to think of me bending you over Vince's desk, and fucking that round ass of yours, your helpless cries filling the office? Or if you prefer, you could hammer me."

John shuddered, thinking of the feel of the desk under his body, Christian's hands roaming over his muscles and shivering flesh, as the pictures of Linda, Shane, and Stephanie rattled and fell to the floor form the jolting thrusts of Christian's hips against his ass. Option two was just as good, as he nailed the smaller man into the desk, forcing his seed out in an explosion down the side of the wood. John nodded slowly.

"Yeah, fuck yeah it does."

Christian smirked.

"Well, we have to be quick about this then." He said lowly, reaching for John's fly and unfastening his belt. "He'll be back soon. Could you imagine if he walked in on us? Could you imagine if Vince saw both of us sprawled out over his desk moaning, grinding against each other, like a couple of bitches in heat, John?"

The vivid images crashed through Johns mind, sending waves of ecstasy to his twitching member. Christian undone John's straining fly, and tugged the jeans and boxers down in one pull, noting that the locker room gossip 'The Champ Junior' was in fact true. John peeled his shirt off, and Christian took John's hand. He led John behind the desk to where a tall leather chair sat looking regal and oh-so-inviting. Christian pushed John down into the chair, and straddled his lap.

Christian and John's lips collided in a fiery kiss, the blondes teeth clicking against his. Christian's lips roamed over John's body. His wet clothes cool and sticky against John's skin, a contrast to the leather kiss of the chair that was gluing itself to his naked skin as his body seemed to sweat with fever. John writhed and sighed as Christian slid down his body, coming to rest sat up on his knees, on the floor at John's feet. Christian's hands trailed over his legs and up his thighs, spreading them wide so he could slide forward and lap at the head of his impressive erection.

"Chairman Cena…" Christian growled against John's cock, teasing the head with swipes and circles of his tongue.

"Oh, fuck!" John moaned, rolling his hips up out of the chair, as his hands gripped the armrests, a delicious suction sound made from the leather peeling away from his wet skin. The duel sensations of Christian's hot, slippery, tongue, against his flesh and the way that title rolled out of Christian's mouth went straight to his cock, making it throb harder.

John grabbed the back of Christian's head and pushed him forward. His lips parted and he opened wide to slide John into his mouth, the thick shaft straining his jaw, as he took most of it into his mouth and throat, sucking hard and sliding his tongue around the engorged member. John rolled his hips, forcing Christian to cough the rest of it down as tears leaked from his eyes from the choking reflex as he tried to not suffocate on it. There wasn't much he could do but let John fuck his mouth, as his hips snapped up from McMahon's chair—and he was actually enjoying ache of his jaw, the raw pain in his throat as John hammered, the cracking of his lips at the corners. Christian moaned around John's length, and scratched at his legs, his own excitement now straining inside his still-wet pants from the dousing of the sprinkler earlier.

John pulled out of Christian's mouth leaving his lips swollen and bruised, saliva trailing down his chin, a small smear of blood at one side of his lips. The blonde looked up at him from clouded eyes. John peeled himself out of the sticky chair, and hoisted Christian to his feet, with one word panted harshly against his ear—"Desk."

John bent Christian over the desk, and tugged his jeans and underwear down, leaving them in a pile around his feet. John glanced around for a moment at all the WWE posters hung on the wall, all the top Superstars seeming to spy on his dirty deed, as he slid his fingers into Christian's tight entrance. The blonde hissed, his nails digging and tearing against the top of the desk, and McMahon's planner, being ripped to shreds in the process. The pain was wonderfully satisfying, as John readied him to take that big cock into his body yet again.

"You're so bad John." Christian rasped, smiling as John groaned. "Fucking me in the big man's office…" His battered lips stretched into an aching smile. "You're not such a good boy after all."

"Hell yeah." John growled, and slammed into the place his fingers had left.

Christian yelped at the sudden impact, the sob forced from his chest as John pounded into him with all his weight and force. Tears slid down his cheeks, his mouth screwed up into a grimace, as the desk wobbled and jarred with each quick and tremendous thrust. John's name came coughed and twisted from his mouth again and again, their voices mingling until there were no words left just primal grunts and the slap of flesh, until John arched against him and emptied with one final impact against that amazing spot inside. Christian exploded against the drawers, relief washing over him with is climax, as John slowly pulled out, and he felt the warmth of John's release leak down his legs, as his own dripped down the desk and made the fronts of his thighs sticky.

John reached for a box of tissues that had fallen to the floor, and cleaned himself up. After he was done, he tossed the wadded Kleenex into the waste basket and helped Christian clean up, before helping him get his jeans back on, because at the moment—Christian explained in a scratchy voice—that he couldn't bend over to pick them up from around his feet at the moment.

They'd just finished dressing and rounded the front of the desk, when the door to Vince's office swung open. Both of them stood there shocked, and Vince stopped short, surprised to see them.

"What are you two doing in my office!" Vince narrowed his eyes and stomped over towards them. "Were you in the building when the fire alarm—Jay, why are you all wet?" Vince asked, noting Christian's damp clothes.

"Uh, Vince…y'see--" John started.

"Ha, got ya!" Christian exclaimed, his voice still sounding choked, but managed the words okay. "I pulled the alarm."

"You what!" Vince grumped, going around his desk and sitting down in his chair. John chewed on his lips, desperately trying not to burst out laughing or crying at the fact Vince was sitting in his chair, which moments ago John had just been naked and sweaty in. "Is this your idea of a rib Reso?"

"Yup, and I got you." Christian said, winking at Vince, before tugging on John's arm. "Come on John."

The two of them made it out into the hallway, before they both collapsed into fits of laughter.


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update this. This story isn't one of my top priorities, but I do plan on finishing up all the pairings I have left. Please review if the urge hits ya! Thank you :-)**_

Rey looked down at his feet, studying the shoes encasing them. Inside he wiggled his toes, feeling uncomfortable, and a little silly. He was surprised at how hard it had been for him to get up the nerve to carry out the secret sexer request he had drawn. Maybe that was because it was pretty ambiguous. The kink simply read 'fetish' and that could be a wide variety of things, many which Rey would refuse if the requester elaborated into something _really_ out there. He had spent a lot of time musing at what exactly it might be, but he couldn't gain very much insight into his requester. He'd asked around casually, to a couple of people he had known to have been with Evan before, but both had said that Evan hadn't been into anything kinky, both of them not failing to mention with a smirk the boys flexibility, and apparently skilled mouth. With a small sigh, Rey knocked on the door to Evan's hotel room.

Moments later it was opened, and the ever cheerful Evan greeted him with a big smile.

"Hey Oscar!"

"Hola, amigo." Rey replied, with a small smile, that could nowhere mirror the dazzling one spread across Evan's sweet face. "Um, can I come in? I…I'm here for…remember that game?"

Evan's grin faltered, and a rosy blush warmed his cheeks.

"Yeah, come in." Evan shut the door behind him after Rey had come in. He turned to the shorter man and Rey's uneasiness only made the heat in Evan's cheeks simmer hotter. He chewed at his lower lip, watching Rey as he sat on the corner of the bed. Evan's eyes drifted downwards, coming to lock onto Rey's shoes. "Ooh, I like your shoes." Evan smiled, his eyes tracing the pretty candy-apple red detailing.

"Thanks." Rey shifted nervously. "So Evan, uh , can I ask you just what kind of fe-"

"Can I see your feet?" Evan asked quietly, the soft words cutting off Rey's questions. Evan's whole face was burning now, almost as red as the color on Rey's shoes. Rey blinked, his eyebrows quirking.

"Excuse me? My…feet?"

"Yeah, do you think maybe I could see them? Maybe…touch them."

Evan chewed at his fingernails, shifting from foot to foot. The question was timid and he was clearly embarrassed by his words. It took a moment for the odd request to really click in Rey's mind, and then he understood. He let out a sigh, feeling relieved that Evan's fetish wasn't something too extreme.

"Oh yeah, sure." Rey said, lifting one foot up off of the floor and wiggling it.

Immediately the joyous smile was back on Evan's face, and the crimson stain over his cheeks lessened to a pretty pink. Evan knelt in front of Rey and took the offered foot, running a hand over the pristine leather of the shoe, over the laces, over the bow. His fingers curled around the hem of Rey's jeans and curled the fabric up, slowly revealing the high-top of the shoe, and the smooth, tan, skin above that. Evan sat back on his heels for a moment, just taking it all in, before moving and doing the same to Rey's other pants leg.

"I bet your feet are pretty." Evan said softly as his fingers danced over the shoelaces, tracing their crisscross weave, before tugging the bow and knot loose. He tugged at the heel of the shoe and slowly slipped it off, practically teasing it away from Rey's cotton clad foot.

Evan seemed to be transfixed, watching closely as Rey wiggled his toes inside their soft cloth sheath. He chewed at his lip and the same as the first, removed the second shoe. Evan sat back again on his heels, admiring the half-dressed feet. He was caught pleasantly off guard when one of the feet reached for him, and the pointed toes brushed deliberately over his crotch. Evan gasped, a visible shiver racing through his body at the contact. The brush was done and gone too quickly for him, the sweet touch of those socked toes immediately sent a rush to his hardening flesh.

His hand slid over the cotton coverings, cupping the heels before moving to the ankles, where the socks came to a low rise. His fingers hooked the tops and pulled each down, slowly revealing the smooth, tanned, feet to his lustful eyes.

"Ooh, Rey, oh they're so perfect."

Evan sighed, letting the socks drop to the floor. His hands roamed over the smooth heels, the curved arches, the padded balls, the little wiggling toes. Evan closed his eyes, enjoying each curve and the feel of the soft skin, as his hardness grew against the inside of his jeans. His fingers and thumbs kneaded the flesh, and a soft moan ghosted from Rey's lips at the relaxing touches. A moment later, he opened his eyes a bit to a new sensation. Evan's lips were placing ticklish kisses to the tops and sides. The sensation made Rey shiver, and his toes twitch. Evan's tongue joined his lips in the caress of Rey's feet, the red, wet tip trailed and flicked over the skin. Rey could feel the pants coming against his foot in hard, warm, puffs. Evan's eyelashes fluttered, and he moaned as he began to suck at the side of the foot, coming around to the toes, where his tongue slid around and in between, nestling into each crevasse, suckling at the little writing appendages.

"Fuck Evan, your mouth—ah maybe sometime it could suck something else, si?"

Evan's only answer was to take Rey's biggest toe into his mouth, and lathe it with his tongue, whimpering against it as Rey's unassaulted foot slid between his legs. Rey smirked as his foot glided over the bulge in Evan's jeans, and beautifully the young man rolled his hips into the touch. The next stroke, Rey pushed harder against the erection, drawing a sound from Evan that shot straight to his groin. Evan's lips pulled away from Rey's toe with a hard suck, his pink lips left slick and wet with saliva, as his eyes burned up into Rey's. He gripped the ankle of the foot Rey was teasing him with, and with a moan he shifted and ground against the sole.

"Come up here, Evy." Rey purred, enjoying the expression on Evan's face and the groan and slipped curses as he pushed harder, and rolled his foot over the stretched denim. Rey pulled away from Evan's grip, and crawled up the bed, petting the pillows at the headboard. Evan rolled onto the bed and lay there, waiting impatiently, fidgeting.

Rey's hands slid up Evan's legs, whispering over the jean material. He pushed them up so they were bent at the knees, then spread them. Rey leaned back on his elbows, and snaked one of his legs between, rubbing his heel against the tent. Evan's fingers dug into the sheets, gripping as Rey played with him, soon adding his other foot to tease up and down Evan's inner thigh. The words dripping from Evan's mouth from the torturous pleasure urged Rey on and excited him even more. They were dirty enough, but coming from Evan's sweet lips they seemed so amplified in their delicious wrongness. Rey's toes moved up to the waistband of Evan's jeans, and managed to work the button free. The zipper was a tougher job, but the teasing struggle and slow, laborious pull of it downwards only made Evan even more excited and he couldn't seem to hold still as it finally yawned open. Rey hooked his toes into the belt loops, and managed to shift the material down a little more. He traced his toes along the thick shaft, outlined and hugged by the cotton of Evan's briefs. His toes nudged teasingly at the head, causing more of those wonderful sounds and curses to explode from Evan's mouth, as his hips rolled up from the mattress.

"Ah Rey, fuck, shit, ooh please Rey fuck me with those pretty, slutty feet! Ooh, I wanna see 'em all wet and slippery—mmfuck!"

Evan arched from the bed again, as Rey started to rub harder against the engorged organ, using both feet. Evan gripped harder onto the sheets, bucking up against Rey's feet, biting his lip to try and hold on longer. This man was driving him so crazy, he knew that he didn't have much left, and he wanted to feel the warm, bare skin, moving up and down against him without the barrier of clothing. He shoved down the waist band of his briefs and pushed them down enough to bare himself to Rey. The toes squirmed against the stiff flesh and the heels ground in at his balls causing him to scream Rey's name until he grabbed a pillow and smashed it into his face, to muffle the cries of ecstasy, as pleasure coursed and throbbed through every nerve in his body. Rey picked up a quick, hard pace, rubbing against Evan until he arched up from the bed, and the pearly liquid burst from the bulbous head.

Evan moved the pillow from his sweat-soaked face, feeling dizzy and light from the tremendous orgasm that had just thundered through his system. He glanced down, seeing Rey's feet resting between his thighs. His own cum slicked the tanned skin, and dripped from between the toes. For a few moments he just felt numb, entranced as he watched a thick drop make its slow path down the sole of Rey's foot. He managed finally to move, after gulping in a few shuddering breaths, and moved so he was on his knees at Rey's feet, stopping only for a moment to fix his underwear and pants. He bent his head towards one of Rey's feet, and with a groan of naughty enjoyment, Evan lapped at the gooey splatters and cleaned the ample release. All the while he kept an eye on the spot between Rey's legs, noticing that he was still hard. He sucked at Rey's toe again, the same way as he had earlier, hollowing his cheeks until Rey's head lulled back and something in Spanish came from his mouth in a moan. With a pop Evan released Rey's toe and licked at his cum-flavored lips.

"You wanted to feel my mouth on you?" He purred, as he moved up Rey's body, and used said mouth to undo Rey's pants.

He wasted no time in teasing, seeing that the thick liquid was already gathering at the tip. Evan swallowed down to the base and sheathed Rey in the hot, wet, confines of his mouth and throat without so much as a twitch or cough. Rey's fingers twisted into Evan's dark hair, as words that Evan didn't know spilled from his lips. Evan slicked his tongue around the pulsing member, and then hollowed his cheeks, bobbing and sucking until his throat and mouth was overflowed with Rey's load. He swallowed it down, and wiped the drip from his chin, and licked it off of his fingers, with a hot blush staining his cheeks as he did it.

"Ah, Evan…I'm never going to be able to see you as innocent again, please believe me!" Rey sighed, loving the picture before him, as Evan tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, suddenly seeming to need to cover the undone jeans.

"But…I am." He said with a small smile.

Rey laughed a little, and sat up, fixing his own pants.

"I'm hungry." Evan mused, as he moved from the bed, and wandered towards his suitcase, which was propped against the foot of his bed. Rey couldn't help but stare at Evan's ass as he bent over to rummage in it, silently hoping that he could have a chance to fuck it sometime.

"How are you hungry after that?" Rey teased, keeping the image of Evan's cum slicked lips in mind for future purposes.

"I guess I'm a glutton?" Evan giggled, straightening up and rattling a box of Froot Loops. He perched back in the center of the bed, with the box opened between his legs. All of his former shyness had seemed to return, and his face colored pink again, as Rey dipped his hand inside the box and stole some of the rainbow cereal.


	14. Chapter 14

**_A/N: Thanks for all reads and reviews._**

Adam lay bored on his bed in another drab hotel room. It didn't seem to matter if they were pricey or fleabag, they all felt really the same. Randy had called him earlier, inviting him out for a night with the boys which meant drinking until the point of faceplanting, and ending up in random beds, possibly having fucked someone or been fucked. Even that was the same, and it was no longer interesting to the cocky blond. He rolled over, snapping his gum, which seemed to have lost its flavor. He pulled the wad from his mouth and stuck it behind the headboard of his bed, pressing it in place with his thumb. He rolled over again, this time placing himself on his back, and lacing his hands behind his head. The ceiling was as uninteresting as everything else was. The last fun he had really had, was with Rey when he'd fulfilled Rey's request and dressed like a priest, and then Rey had bent him over a pew and fucked him. That had been deliciously different, and was the whole point of Adam having started the game to begin with. Life on the road, contrary to popular belief, was often not full of crazy adventures. Most of the time it was full of the same ho-hummery of traveling, being sleep-deprived, and traveling some more. Entertainment had to be sought out, it didn't just fall out of the sky from the fun-gods, and often times the banks of practical jokes and insane dares dried up leaving boredom to fill their places.

Just like now. Adam was so fucking bored. He rolled off of his bed and began to pace the room, counting his footsteps, before realizing with dismay the depths of dullness he had reached to be doing so. His eyes snapped up from his toes padding against the carpet, when a knock sounded on his door. Who could that be? It was probably Randall coming to attempt to drag Adam's ass out of his room and out to a night that Adam didn't want. With a suffering sigh, Adam opened the door without bothering to look through the peephole. He was prepared to give a firm NO and then slam the door in Randy's face before anything more could be done. However, any words died on Adam's lips when he saw what was not Randy at his door.

Shawn stood at his door, the spitting image of the fantasy Adam had written upon his own scrap of paper for that brainchild of his. That sex game was the best damn thing he'd ever thought of, this only went to further prove his genius. Shawn looked so pretty, and still any words stayed silenced on Adam's tongue. His hands were afraid to touch the man, he looked too innocent to be defiled in the way he had come to offer himself up, and that really turned Adam on.

Shawn remained standing there with a blush painted across his face. Although Adam figured it was from embarrassment, he liked to think it was just the blush of innocence being tested. Finally, Adam extended his hand, and Shawn's fingers twined with his, and Adam drew him inside, closing the door. The tiered ruffles of Shawn's short bobbed skirt rustled softly as he moved, his golden hair swishing in the twin tails which were secured with curling cotton-candy pink and black ribbons. Adam's fingers brushed against the pink and white ruffles, over the tiny black bows on the top tier of the skirt, over the black ribbon detailing of the bodice, and the puffed sleeves. Adam's palm cupped Shawn's smooth shaven face, and his thumb brushed the soft-silk cheek. Shawn was the perfect Lolita.

Adam scooped him up and laid Shawn on the bed gently, trailing his hands again over the pretty details of the dress, before delving up under the ruffles to caress Shawn's thighs and down his legs to the tops of the white stocking Shawn wore. The slow, ticklish, tease of Adam's tracing fingers coursed a visible shiver through Shawn, and Adam could feel the muscles of Shawn's legs twitching beneath his touch as he repeated the motions. The third time he didn't stop at the tops of the milky stockings but brushed over them, his hands gliding over the curvy muscle of Shawn's calves and down to his ankles, and feet, where he gently touched the pink Mary Jane's.

The little girl shoes were tossed to the floor, the cream-white socks rolled slowly away from the flesh beneath, and sent to meet their abandoned counterparts. Adam placed his hands against Shawn's thighs and spread his legs apart, and then crawled between them, leaning in to get a close look at Shawn's face. The golden rain of his pig-tails were fanned out around his head, the ribbons spiraled like the shiny curls on top of Christmas packages. Shawn's baby blues were wide and gazing up at Adam. His lips were curved into a small smile, the soft petals glazed with a light sheen. Adam bent to taste them for a kiss, and a hint of cherry blossomed in his mouth as his tongue swept past the willing lips.

His hands again roamed over the soft cottony material of the dress, touching and fingering each bow, ribbon, and lacey ruffle. Their teeth clicked gently as their mouths worked, and Adam's tongue pushed deeper into Shawn's mouth, wringing a moan from the wiggling body beneath him. His lips broke away from Shawn's and crawled over his jawline, and down his neck, as he pushed the tiered skirt up and slid his hands against the hot skin beneath. Adam's fingers roamed over the thin panties that barely concealed the jutting organ beneath. Shawn mewled as Adam moved his palm over the impressive package, rubbing the seemingly fragile material against the thick head. Adam's teeth nipped at Shawn's neck, his lips traveling further, to the swatch of Shawn's chest which peeked above the scoop neck of the dress. Adam kissed the chest that moved up and down with fevered breaths, and dragged his tongue in slow circles against the flesh. Shawn's erection was straining against Adam's hand, the thin barrier between skin becoming damp. Adam hooked his fingers into the band of the panties and worked them down Shawn's legs until they were off. He brought the dampened middle of them to his face and nuzzled against the musky scent, before leaving them in a crumple on the bed next to Shawn. Adam bent and licked at the hard organ, the head brushing up against the skirt ruffles. His tease of it was brief, before his hands moved beneath Shawn's ass to tilt his hips and give his tongue access to another intimate place that needed more attention than Shawn's pretty cock.

Adam shivered with pleasure as he heard his name cried breathily again and again, at the tease and trace of his tongue along the crevasse between Shawn's perfect checks. He took as much time readying Shawn as his own body would allow, and then tugged his own jeans and briefs away, and slipped into Shawn's tight heat. At the union of their bodies both men gasped in pleased curses at the feel of the other. Adam grasped Shawn's wrists and held them above his head, against the bed, as he started up a pace that was satisfying to them both, and the puffy skirt whispered fabric moans at the movements. Too soon, both of them were riding the downward wave of orgasm, the pretty skirt dirtied by Shawn's sticky load, and Shawn's thighs wet with Adam's as the blond unjoined their afore mated bodies.

"Shawn…thank you." Adam smiled down at the man with ribbons in his hair.

"You're welcome." Shawn smiled back at him.

Adam moved away from Shawn, and Shawn sat up, then rolled off the bed and fixed his skirt. He grabbed the panties which had fallen off the bed at some point, and used them to mop up some of the thick ropes from his thighs. Adam watched him closely, and handed him the discarded stockings and shoes. Shawn took them and headed towards the door, but didn't put them on. Adam followed after him to reluctantly show him out. Shawn's hand turned the doorknob and pushed the door ajar, but then he stopped. His fingers fiddled with one of the powdery pink ribbons that curled in his hair. Shawn loosed the strip and took Adam's hand, and pressed the small offering into his palm.

"Keep it." Shawn said. He curled Adam's fingers around the ribbon, and kissed his knuckles, before ducking out into the hallway and shutting the door on a smile that somehow, still managed to look innocent.


End file.
